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SUE ELLA BIGHAM 

THE AUTHOR’S ONLY GRAND-CHILD, IN HONOR OF 
WHOM THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN, AND FOR 
WHOM IT IS NAMED 


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OAKWOOD, TEXAS 

Where this Little Book was Written, Printed and 

Bound by the Author. 





SUE ELLA 


A HISTORICAL ROMANCE 

FOUNDED ON INCIDENTS 
OF THE 

WAR BETWEEN THE STATES 

BY 

ROBT. H. JETTON 

OAKWOOD, TEXAS 


Illustrated By 
THOS. B. WOODBURN 


A TEXAS NOVEL 
BY 

A TEXAS EDITOR 





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©C1.A410522 


SEP 20 1915 

J\ I . 




Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1915 by 
ROBERT H. JETTON* 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


p R c e c 


I have no apology to make for the presentation of 
this little book. It is not intended by the author 
that it should ever stray into the domain of the 
classics; and since it is not intended to offer itself 
for higher criticism, it is unnecessary to apologize 
to the less pretentions. 

Like all prose fiction, this little volumn is a crea- 
ture of the imagination. To maintain and justify 
that claim, it must be entirely original. This much I 
claim for it, if nothing more. 

If it be said that the plot of the story indicates 
some ingenuity, then I shall appreciate the compli- 
ment. 

The style of composition and arrangement, so far 
as I know, is as original as the thoughts expressed. 
No style has been imitated, and the diction of no 
author has been consulted. 

The little book is nothing more than an impromptu 
effort, given to the reader as it emanated from the 
mind of the author, without re-writing or criticism. 
The grammatical and typographical errors, together 
with some bad spelling will verify this statement. 
This is original, also; whenever before has a writer 
of a book referred to his own defects. 

Take the little book. It is only one “pebel on the 
beach’'— a very small one. 

With the hope that it will instruct, amuse and 
interest its readers, it is humbly submitted for their 
perusal by its Author. 


R. H. Jetton. 


lATRODUerORY RCA^RKi 


A large per cent of present day fiction is nothing 
more than a “Mess'^ of sickly sentimentalism. It is 
intended only to excite the sensual nature of the 
reader regardless of any wrong sentiment it may 
inculcate. The object of the writer is to excite the 
mind in order to sell the story or the book. 

SUE ELLA is a clean story. It is true to nature 
in its moral aspect There is not a villainous char- 
acter in the plot. The sentiment expressed is eleva- 
ting from start fo finish 

Henry Gordon, the most prominent character in 
the story, represents a young man of good breeding 
and noble intentions. He is a moddel of integrity 
and fidelity in love and marriage, 

John Calhoun, the second male character in the 
story, represents a spirit of honor and magnanimity 
that might be emulated by any young man in the 
vocation of life. He impersonates a strong, brave, 
resolute— yet conservative — character, who wins out 
in the sequel of the story. 

Sue Van Deckman is the typical Western girl- 
full of fun and vivacity. Her beauty and education 
would make her a heart-winner in elite society; but 
true to her environment (after the first chapter) she 
becomes an impersonating cow-boy. She may be 
considered the true heroine in “The round-up.'' 

The life of Ella Lockridge is full of pathos. She 
plays the mysterious part of the story, and is the 
most interesting character in the narative. 


Col. Van Deckman, Captain Lockridge, Three 
Comrades, Aunt Mary, Uncle Tom and Go Pete are 
incidental characters to whom more or less impor- 
tance is attached. 

The historical features of the book are true inci- 
dents and worthy of notice They are recorded facts 
that it will be hard for you to find elsewhere. The 
book is in perfect harmony with the history, geog- 
raphy, topography, also the customs and conditions 
of Texas and New Mexieo during the Ciyil War. 

The Author. 


SUE ELLA 


CHAPTER 1. 

ON THE BRIDGE AT SUNSET 

“There! Look there at that pretty speckled perch! 
My! If I only had my heok and line!’' 

The above exclamatory sentences were uttered aud- 
ibly, with no one, except the speaker, to hear. They 
fell from the lips of a pretty Texas girl — Sue Van 
Deckman — as she leaned over the hand railing of a 
foot-bridge that spanned a beautiful little tributary 
stream, not many miles south of the historic old city 
of San Antonio, in whose lap is cradled the immortal 
Alamo. 

“bon soir, sue!” 

“Bon what?” exclaimed the girl as she hastily 
turned, and laughingly looked up into the face of 
her lover, Henry Gordon, who had stole upon her 
unawares. “Great Ceasar, Henry! What are you 
doing here all togged up like that?” 

“0, well, I was trying on my new Confederate un- 
iform, you see, and supposing you were at the bridge, 
thought rd step down here and let you take a squint 
at me.” 


2 


SUE ELLA 


“Squint, nothing! I suppose this means that you 
are determined to join the army, Henry? I like your 
cow-boy suit much better. I hate the very name of 
war. It makes me nervous to think of it/’ 

Henry Gordon, ma foi, upon his word of promise, 
was to take his leave soon to join Gen. Sibley’s Brig- 
ade of Texas Volunteers which, a few days previous 
to this time (November, 1861) had left San Antonio 
and was now on the march to New Mexico. Sue 
Van Beckman, being apprised of this fact, had stolen 
from the home for a brief time, and was seeking re- 
lief for her depressed spirit in an evening stroll. 
She was very much attached to Henry, for he had 
been her vade mecum— in fact, he had been for 
some time, both lover and brother to her, and the 
thought of being separated from him was growing 
more painful as the time for his departure grew 
nearer. 

Henry had preconceived the change in Sue’s looks 
and manners and very well knew the cause- Find- 
ing her alone, he took advantage of the occasion to 
reassure her of his devotion and offer some excuse 
for the course he had resolved to follow. 

“Dear Sue; I am no less averse to the stern de- 
mands and cruel usages of war than yourself. I 
profoundly appreciate the signifiicance of that mel- 
ancholly spirit you have already begun to suffer in 
painful anticipation of my early departure; but my 
country has called for my services and if I refuse to 
answer the call, I will, in the estimation of my coun- 
trymen, be deemed no less contemptible than a 


SUE ELLA 


o 

o 


traitor. The soul that feels no spirit of patriotism, 
is dead. Dear girl, do not believe that I love you 
less, because duty calls me to serve my country 
first.’’ 

“No, Henry; I do not doubt the sincerity of your 
love; neither do I question the honesty of your devo- 
tion. I was only debating in my mind as to which 
is the greater of the two moral forces that live in the 
human breast — the principle of love, or the passion 
of hate.” 

‘ T am persuaded, dear Sue, that you are confused 
in the use of your terms when you class hate as one 
of the moral virtues.” 

“Notin the least, Henry. I did not say that 
HATE was a moral virtue; I classed it as amoral force 
in the human make-up, and the definition applied is 
by no means erroneous or out of place.” 

“Well, you girls have some strange ideas to say 
the least. Were you and I engaged in planting a 
flower garden, or decorating a room, I would con- 
cede to you every right to plan and dictate the work 
to be done; but we are now discussing the great 
problem of war — yes, war — an event which all phil- 
osophers and historicans have long since defined as a 
necessary evil. Ha, ha! Why do you associate hate 
with war?” 

“I feel quite sure, Henry, that my ideas of war 
are too effeminate to coincide with your patriotic im- 
pulses. Truly, we girls have never yet conceded the 
truthfulness of your philosophy, when you assert 
that war is only a necessary evil. And, more yet; 


4 


SUE ELLA 


it is hard for us girls to understand how any evil is 
necessary to the happiness and welfare of an indi- 
vidual, state or commonwealth. Again, it is hard 
for us girls to realize the motive of combatants who 
go out in battle array and there slay each other, un- 
less they, or their superiors, are prompted by the 
principle of hate/^ 

“Pshaw! You talk silly. Sue- Don^t you know 
that the spirit of patriotism, which in its broadest 
sense means love of one^s country, has ever been 
taught to be one of the most sacred virtues of the 
true and the brave? There; that is love, not hate 
— love of home, kindred and country, and all that is 
near and dear to life; and when men fly to arms and 
fight for a sacred heritage they are only obeying the 
first law of nature, which is the law of self defense. 

“Yes, Henry. I will admit that ail you have men- 
tioned has been taught and promulgated from the 
earliest ages down to the present time. Tyrants 
have fostered the practice of war, and false ambi- 
tion has, with a mantel of charity, covered its hor- 
rors, while the plea of self defense has ever been an 
accepted excuse for all the lives and property lost 
during the years of mortal combat. You call me 
silly; but I fail to see the truthfulness of your state- 
ment: that war is a necessary evil. The fact that 
such doctrine has always been taught does not, in 
my mind, prove that it is pro bono publico, nor will 
it serve as an excuse for civilized, Christian nations 
to keep up the practice. Old theories are being ex- 
ploded every day, as people become more enlightened 




SUE ELLA 


5 


and aspire to higher ideals. War, in my opinion, is 
a relic of barbarism, and should have no place in the 
affairs of civilized nations/' 

Henry was slow to respond to this fusillade of 
glaring facts, and his eyes were turned for the mo- 
ment beholding the beautiful scene of Nature's own 
painting; for this retreat where the lovers were loit- 
ering was one of beauty and full of interest. Twi- 
light was approaching. The great Orb of day was 
sinking behind the distant hills in the far west. 
Down the sloping plain southward the flowing stream 
stretched like a blue ribbon, its margin fringed only 
by the spontaneous sagebrush and a few clumps of 
drooping willows. The farther end of the little foot 
bridge, to the westward, was in close proximity with 
a rocky ledge, one strata receding beyond the other 
in successive layers, forming a veritable stairway, 
leading to the top of an eminence that overlooked the 
VanDeckman ranch on the plain beyond. The balmy 
zephyr from the Southern coast was toying with Sue's 
auburn ringlets as she leaned over the railing watch- 
ing the numerous and variegated little fishes as they 
gamboled in the placid stream below. 

While Henry was feasing his eyes on the beauty 
of their environment, his mind was busy with the 
thoughts of Sue's last argument in favor of her side 
of the question. His long silence was giving con- 
sent to irretrievable defeat, for Sue had had the 
proverbial “last word"— a right that has always been 
generously conceded to womankind. But he was de- 
termined to make another effort to convince her of 


6 


SUE ELLA 


the importance and necessity of war. So with an 
air of jacularity to cover the expressive feeling of 
his superiority, he began: 

“Now, Sue, look at me, you silly little nymph of 
deceptive sweetness. You don^t believe the half of 
what you say. You have never once taken into con- 
sideration the magnitude, the stupendous issues in- 
volved by war. When you dispense with war you 
will deprive the citizenship of all nations of that in- 
alienable, sovereign right— the right of self defense, 
and as a result all the weaker nations will be reduc- 
ed to peonage or slavery. Stronger nations who have 
a moral sympathy for the weaker ones will have no 
opportunity to intervene when they see a greedy, 
remorseless hoard making an invasion for plunder 
and conquest only. 

“Again, you would destroy nearly half the indus- 
trial arts and inventions of the world. Only think 
of the millions of dollars that are spent annually for 
battleships, fortifications and munitions of war; not 
only this, but think of the countless thousands of 
men who would be out of employment under your 
universal peace system. You would destroy the 
right of rebellion and revolutions and thus foster 
tyranny and impede the progress of all national re- 
forms. When you annul the right to control or sub- 
due by might, you will find that your moral suasion 
theory will soon let all civilized nations sink back 
into barbarism. 

“Now, Sue, I am a Secessionist. I believe in State 
rights, and will leave you soon to join the Confeder- 


SUE ELLA 


7 


ate army. It is more for your sake than my own 
that I go. I believe the North has made unjust de- 
mands of the South. I do not believe the North has 
any constitutional right to ask the slave owners of 
Texas to give up 180,000 negro slaves, valued at 
more than $50,000,000. When the Northern Aboli- 
tionist is so inconsiderate of the interests of his 
Southern brother he deserves peine forte et 

DURE.'' 

Sue's hitherto calm and meditative features now 
changed into a medley of questionable smiles, as she 
mused on Henry's last sentence, which was, as she 
considered it, an egotistical break into the French 
dialect. Then assuming her former sedate and re- 
flective mood, she continued with the following re- 
tort: 

“I shall not attempt, Henry, to argue, pro or con, 
the question of secession. It is not my purpose to 
question, or sit in judgment on the legality of Nat- 
ional or international rights and wrongs that may 
become an issue between nations or divisions of a 
commonwealth. I will discuss the question as I 
stated it in the beginning, viz: That war is a great 
evil and should not be practiced by civilized people. 

‘ T see that you want to dodge the moral side of 
the argument, Henry, and confuse me with the glare 
of war's falcified magnificence. Your theory, if fol- 
lowed to the ULTIMA THULE, would justify wholesale 
murder even to the extermination of entire races. 
Your policy legalizes the assessment and collection 
of large revenues, demanded of poor, honest, inno- 


8 


SUE ELLA 


cent people. And for what purpose are these 
large sums of money expended? To build battle- 
ships, fortify cities and to construct implements of 
death and destruction— money to magnify evil and 
to make widows and orphans— money to destroy 
commerce that peaceful industry has built up. 

“0, Henry, who can portray the evils of war? No 
one living can tell the whole story of its woes. Ex- 
ageration is impossible. The fatigued fancy of the 
most gifted artist falters in its flight before the 
darkest shades of the picture are shown — and not a 
shade could be printed darker than the truth. Paint 
rivers and brooks flowing with human blood fresh 
from the field of mortal conflict where wholesale 
murder stands aghast over one stupendous grave 
which it has no means to cover. Paint homes in 
ruins, health destroyed and hopes crushed, and fam- 
ine, the legitimate offspring of war, stalking abroad. 
Put into the picture every conceivable thing that is 
terrible and revolting, and when it is finished hang 
it in position where the horrors of the infernal re- 
gions will serve as a background, and yet the evils 
of war will be only partially portrayed. 

“And in the face of these glaring facts, Henry , you 
still persist in gathering palms and making crowns 
for military heroes to wear.'’ 


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SUE. 


SUE ELLA 


9 


CHAPTER 2. 

COL. MARCELLUS VAN DECKMAN 

On the most elevated portion of an expansive, un- 
dulating plateau not many furlongs from the scene 
described in the foregoing chapter stood the large, 
comfortable, and it may be said, princely residence 
of Colonel Marcellus Van Deckman. It was erected 
in the early days of the Texas Republic, and pre- 
sented such a remarkable and magnificent contrast 
to other country homes of that early date, that it 
was almost universally referred to as the Van Deck- 
man mansion— an appellation that would deserve no 
merit in the present age of architectural develop- 
ment. In this era of Texas history building mate- 
rial was difficult to obtain, and even people of con- 
siderable wealth lived in rude huts built of rough logs 
or adobe 

Col. Van Deckman was a native of Virginia. The 
many years of rough, frontier life had not percepti- 
bly diminished those gentlemanly traits of life so 
characteristic of the aristocracy of the Old Dominion 
in ante bellum days. He was a true Southern gen- 
tleman in all that the name implies— carrying with 
him a strictly refined, gentlemanly deportment 
through the stormy vicissitudes of pioneer days. 

On leaving Virginia he first settled in East Texas. 


10 


SUE ELLA 


After the province became a republic he, with his 
family and a large number of negro slaves, moved 
along the King's Old Highway from Nacogdoches to 
the vicinity of San Antonio. 

Strange as it may appear. Col. Van Deckman was 
opposed to Texas entering the Union and was one of 
the “noted seven" who voted against annexation. 
He entertained the belief that, in spite of Mexican 
invasion, Indian depradations, need of money and 
population, that Texas as a republic could be made a 
strong and independent nation; but his dreams of 
empire vanished when Texas became the Lone Star 
State of the Union. Had Col. Van Beckman's pol- 
icy prevailed, it is only a matter of conjecture, as to 
what the fate of Texas would have been. Possibly a 
free and independent country, untrammeled by a 
bulky, federal compact, or union of States, with di- 
versified interests. It might have been one of the 
strongest and grandest little republics on the face of 
the earth. 

When the opportunity came for withdrawing from 
the Union, the Colonel was one of the first to espouse 
the cause of the Southern Confederacy, and voted 
for secession. 

When the Civil War came on Col. Van Deckman 
owned considerable property In addition to his 
slaves and plantation he owned a large ranch, which 
was well stocked with horses and cattle. It should 
be remembered that at this time wire fencing had 
not been invented; there was no timber in this part 
of the state for making rails, and the few little saw 


SUE ELLA 


11 


mills in the eastern part of the state were inaccessi- 
ble because it was before the day of railroads in 
Texas, hence the term ranch meant little more than 
range. At this date of history, the Western cow 
man enjoyed as much freedom and latitude of pas- 
turage in Texas as did Abraham and Lott in the rich 
valley of the Jordan. Every stock man had his 
herders who kept his stock rounded up and looked 
after marking and branding the progeny. Col. Van 
Deckman, like others, had his coterie of cow-boys, 
among whom was Henry Gordon, and his half broth- 
er, John Calhoun. 

HENRY AND JOHN 

Before arriving at the sequel of this story, it be- 
comes necessary to give a brief history of the above 
mentioned two young men, Henry Gordon and his 
brother, John Calhoun. They were sons of the same 
mother, but had different sires. Mrs. Calhoun was 
a niece of Col. Van Deckman. After the death of 
her first husband, she was married to Capt. H C. 
Gordon, at which time John, her infant son, was 
only one year old. By this union, one year later, she 
gave birth to her ^cond son, Henry Gordon ; thus it 
is seen that there was only a difference of two years, 
approximately, in the ages of the two boys. 

Capt. Gordon was an old Indian fighter of the 
State of Missouri. He was a man of some promi- 
nence, and at one time was high sheriff of the coun- 
ty in which he lived- 

When Henry and John were twelve and fourteen 


12 


SUE ELLA 


years old, respectively, Capt. Gordon sent the two 
boys to St. Louis, where they entered college for the 
purpose of completing their education. A year or 
two later every State in the Union was thrown into 
a fever of excitement by the discovery of gold in 
California— January, 1848. Capt. Gordon was delud- 
ed by dreams of fortune in the gold fields of the 
West, and leaving the two boys in school to finish 
their education and follow later, he with his wife, 
joined one of the innumerable overland caravans 
bound for California. While en route, the wagon 
train was raided by a band of Indians. Capt. and 
Mrs. Gordon fell victims to the raid — were killed and 
scalped by the Redskins, and left for their bones to 
bleach on the desolate plains of Arizona. 

Later the two boys, Henry and John, thus made 
orphans, found employment, consolation and com- 
panionship in the home of their uncle. Col. Van 
Deckman. 

DISSIMILARITY OF THE BROTHERS 

There was very little, if any, family likeness to 
indicate the kinship of Henry Gordon and John Cal- 
houn. They were very different in form, feature 
and disposition. Henry was tall and rather spare 
built, yet he was strong and active. He wore a 
heavy suit of auburn hair which reached to his shoul- 
ders, and his features were so nearly the feminine 
type that he could have dressed in ladies' attire and 
passed himself off as a girl, without danger of de- 
tection with regard to his sex. In disposition, he 


SUE ELLA 


la 


was rather emotional and easy to excite. Under 
monentary impulse he was no less uncertain than 
hasty to act, but when once recovered was firm and 
brave. 

John's physique was of the true masculine type. 
He was of the average heighth, broad shoulders, 
muscular and strong. His features were well defin< 
ed: a full round face and a square cut mouth wreath^ 
ed with a heavy raven black mustache, black eyes 
with heavy brows, a broad, smooths forehead and a 
heavy coat of fiuffy black hair, finished the picture 
of a brave, resolute and well developed man. 


14 


SUE ELLA 


CHAPTER 3. 

SUE AND HER SUITORS 

It is not pheBomenally unusual for brothers to be- 
come rivals in the conquest of love. It was a nat- 
ural sequence in this instance that might have been 
expected since Sue Van Deckman had been the vade 
MECUM of both Henry and John. In the innocence 
of her soul Sue had not thought of showing any par- 
tiality toward either of her cousins. The tie of con- 
sanguinity rather than that of affinity had prompted 
her girlish civilities with no perceptible preference 
for either of the young men until— until 

THE MISSING LINK 

Now, let the reader remain silent while the author 
goes back a year or more to pick up a missing link 
from the broken chain of this romance. Remember 
that this part of the story that is now to be related 
is a profound secret and must not be repeated under 
any circumstances. To have this part of the nara- 
tive publicly known at this stage of the play would 
make a serious and unfavorable reflection on some of 
the most prominent actors on the stage. 

It has already been stated that Henry and John, 
after the death of their parents, came to live with 


SUE ELLA 


15 


their mother^s uncle, Col Van Deckman, and had 
grown to manhood under his guardianship. During 
these years they had served their apprenticeship and 
were generally known to be two of the most expert 
cow boys in all the west. 

During this period of time Sue Van Deckman, the 
Goloners daughter, was blooming into lovely woman- 
hood. Indeed, she was a prize worthy of any young 
man's efforts to win. As above stated, Henry and 
John had become rivals in the conquest, each hop- 
ing at no very distant day, to win her heart and 
hand in marriage. The spirit of rivalry in the two 
brothers was fast growing into a painful feeling of 
jealousy. As time rolled on it became evident that 
one or the other must yield. 

On the ranch one day the two brothers quarreled 
over the matter and some harsh words were passed 
between them. Strange as it may appear, up to 
this time neither one of the young men had made 
known his intentions to Sue, who was innocently ig- 
norant of all that was taking place* 

Henry, being rather of a vain and impetuous dis- 
position, told his brother that he was willing to leave 
his destiny to the option of Sue. It was evident 
that he would not yield of his own accord. John, 
being two years the senior of his brother, and also 
being of a more considerate and judicious nature, did 
not wish to take the risk of raising a disturbance in 
the home of his benefactor; so he decided to bring 
the matter to a sudden, if not an abrupt ending. He 
begged Henry's pardon for any ojffense he bad given, 


16 


SUE ELLA 


»nd with a gpirit of magnanimity— that virtue which 
ail trne heroes possess— told Henry that he would 
leave Texas immediately. 

Three days later John took passage on the old 
stage coach line for California. 

It may be parenthetically stated, as a record of 
history, that this was the longest stage coach line in 
the world. It extended from San Antonio, Texas, to 
San Diego, California. The distance is two thousand 
miles. It required twenty-five days, traveling night 
and day, to make the journey, and the fare for the 
trip one way was two hundred dollars. In later 
years the Southern Pacific Railroad Co. built their 
line of road along the old stage route, and today a 
passenger can make the trip in a little more than 
two days at a cost of sixty dollars. 

Yes, it is a secret. Neither Sue nor her father 
ever knew the cause of John's sudden departure. 

SUE'S ACCOMPLISHMENTS 

Sue Van Deckman was a graduate of the best fe- 
male college in the State of Virginia in that day. 
Colonel Van Deckman had plenty money and he sent 
her to his native State to have her educated. Aside 
from a classical course, which included music and 
expression, she was cultured in manners, and when 
occasion demanded, could assume the dignity of a 
queen. 

This was not all. Having been reared on a ranch 
she became accustomed to handling steck, and ac- 


SUE ELLA 


17 


quired the dexterity of a typical Western cow girl. 
She could converse fluently in the cow boy slang and 
ride a bucking broncho. To lasso and throw a four- 
year old steer was no trick at all. She was not noisy 
when engaged with the cow boys in a round-up, 
but it was not for lack of voice, for she, while at 
college, had won for herself the proud title of prima 
DONNA. For sport or pastime on the ranch, she was 
an impersonating cow boy, but not a rude or boister- 
ous tomboy. When out on horseback she rode astride 
and wore a sombrero. 

SUE^S HORSE AND RIG 

Col. Van Deckman was not much given to raising 
Spanish ponies. Most of the horses on his range 
were blooded stock which had been brought from 
Kentucky and Virginia. From this large herd Sue 
had selected a docile, dapple gray, full of metal, not- 
withstanding his docility, and was known to be the 
swiftest horse on the ranch. His name was Bruce. 
She was passionately fond of her steed and never al- 
lowed any one else to ride him. A silver mounted 
little Mexican saddle, with front and flank girths to 
strap it over a hand-woven hair blanket, and a bridle 
of the same texture, completed the dainty rig, semper 
PARATUS to put Bruce in trim for hii graceful rider. 


18 


SUE ELLA 


CHAPTER 4. 

A WILD RIDE 

“Come on Sue, the horses are saddled/^ piped 
Henry as he stood at the front yard ^ate holding the 
reins of Bruce's bridle and his own horse, prepara- 
tory to taking a ride. 

“All hunk-a-dory," responded the slang linguist— 
the saucy little imp— who was donning her riding 
habit and buckling on her spurs. 

“It is rather hazy weather this afternoon," began 
Henry, as they rode down the lane. 

“Yes," responded Sue. “lam not feeWng quite 
so well, either, and we must not ride too far from 
home if it threatens rain." 

“Not quite so well?" inquired Henry. “I never 
heard you complain before. Haven't got the blues, 
have you?" 

“No, " replied Sue. “I feel kinder weak, nervous 
and ' ' 

Just at that instant Bruce sprang his length for- 
ward, as if frightened by something, and then jog- 
ged along as usual 

“What was the matter with him?" inquired Henry, 
who knew such capers for the horse was out of the 
ordinary. 


SUE ELLA 


19 


“Oh, I donH know. He seems to be unruly this 

if 

Again Bruce made another leap with more energy 
than the first. 

“Hold up!'' cried Henry. “There is something 
wrong with that horse. Perhaps there is a bur un- 
der the saddle blanket, or is it possible he has hydro- 
phobia?'' 

“He has never cut such capers before,'' replied 
Sue, “and I feel too weak and nervous to manage 
him, Henry. Perhaps " 

The horse made another leap still more vigorous 
than any yet. 

The play was getting too hazardous for Henry's 
excitable nature. He was becoming alarmed at 
Sue's unusual complaint of feeling ill, and was cha- 
grined at the strange conduct of her horse. 

The couple had now entered the vast rolling prai- 
rie which spread out before them like a variegated 
carpet. Henry was close by Sue's side, and thinking 
that perhaps a little caution might prevent a serious 
misfortune, was reaching out his hand to take hold 
of the near rein of Bruce's bridle, when more sud- 
denly than ever the horse sprang forward and in an 
instant was in full speed. 

With no time to lose, Henry's electrified brain, un- 
der momentary impulse, suggested but one solution 
to the phenominal situation, and that was to force 
his own horse— a very swift animal— to outrun 
Bruee, seize the bridle and check him before Sue's 


20 


SUE ELLA 


brains were dashed out against the stones on the 
plain. 

Bruce had at least fifteen feet the start of Henryks 
horse in beginning of the race. Clatter, clatter, 
clatter! Henry was using his spurs and quirt with 
the vigor of a race jockey with a big wager at stake, 
but was not gaining one foot of ground on the match- 
less Bruce. 

The headgear of the dauntless little rider in the 
lead had lost its fastenings, and Sue's long glossy 
hair like the pennant on a masthead was flying full 
length in the breeze. On, on! speechless and 
breathless the heroine flew. 

Henry's excitement reached fever heat when he 
discovered that Bruce was gaining ground over the 
speed of his own horse. The race was futile; strat- 
egy must be employed, and that at once. Only a 
mile ahead in the course was a prairie dog town— 
the cow boys peril in any hot chase. Should Bruce's 
forefeet sink into one of these dens, a somersault 
wouM be the result, hurling his rider to an untimely 
death. 

With true cow boy instinct and as if by magic, 
Henry loosed the lariat at his saddle bow- Bruce 
must be lassoed as a dernier resort to save Sue's 
life. No time must be lost. A few more leaps of 
the speed-gaining Bruce and he would be beyond the 
length of Henry's rope. 

Over the hero's head in graceful rings the lasso 
was twirling, when another thought came. Should 
the throw prove successful his own horse, no doubt. 


SUE ELLA 


21 


true to his training, would make a sudden stop, and 
with the other end of the rope tied to Henry's sad- 
dle, would throw Bruce a complete turnover, at the 
peril of Sue's safety. What must be done? 

With wonderfully swift dexterity he disengaged the 
rope with his left hand while his right was still in 
motion, and straight as an arrow with an unerring 
aim the loop in the lasso fell over Bruce's head. 
Steady and strong Henry began to pull, and at a few 
more bounds the race came to an end. 

Henry expected to see the girl exhausted, speech- 
less, pale and trembling. On the contrary she was 
as calm and self composed as if nothing out of the 
ordinary had taken place. This surprise was pleas- 
ant, yet not a little embarrassing to Henry's mind, 
and to add still greater perplexity, she was chuck- 
ling a merry, half-derisive little laugh. 

Henry's face was dripping with perspiration, and 
his voice trembled in every note. The expression of 
his countenance, as Sue afterward told it, might 
have led one to believe that he had just escaped 
from a veterinary surgeon who had bored him on the 
wrong side of the head for the simples. 

“That's one on you, " began Sue, as the young 
couple rode slowly homeward on their panting steeds. 
“You must have been very dull in your observation, " 
continued Sue, “not to have noticed that Bruce's 
monkey stunts were caused by sudden jags in his 
flanks by these persuaders on my bootees. Ha, ha! 
That was only a cute little ruse, Henry, that in one 
of my mischievious spells, I planned to give you an 


22 


SUE ELLA 


opportunity to show your metal, and to prove to you 
that Bruce can put the fixin’g on yourhorse any day, 
for the buttermilk. Ha, ha! That’s one on you, 
Henry.” 



On, on! Speechless and breathless 
the heroine flew. 



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II 



SUE ELLA 


28 


CHAPTER 6. 

A SAD STORY 

Several years prior to the date when Henry Gordon 
and John Calhoun came to live with their uncle, a 
great misfortune befell the Van Deckman family— 
one of the most pathetic and heart rending in the 
annals of frontier history. Romancers and novelists 
in all their efforts to discover a theme, in tradition or 
history, have never yet been able to find a more ag- 
onizing, heart breaking story-subject than is fur- 
nished by a simple, truthful narration of a child be- 
ing snatched from the loving embrace of fond par- 
ents, and carried away by savage demons, never, 
perhaps, to be seen or heard of again. 

Death— that grim reaper — whose sickle all men 
fear; death— that great master— with his multipli- 
city of means for destroying human life, is generous 
after all. Generous, in that he allows the father to 
take the last look on the face of his child-generous, 
in that he permits the mother to bestow the last 
kiss, and with her own hands adjust the grave 
clothes and place a flower, the last token of love. 
Then, on the hill-top, not far away, in the City of 
the Dead, the little grave is marked by a plain mar- 
ble slab. A consolation to know the last resting 
place of the child is there. 

But the story of the Van Deckman catastrope has 


24 


SUE ELLA 


not yet been told; nor shall this writer draw to excess 
on the power of his imagination, nor seek to exhaust 
his vocabulary in drawing a picture that the mind of 
each reader can supply for himself. 

Soon after Col. Van Deckman had moved to the 
place already described, and before he had erected 
his magnificent house, an Indian raid was made in 
this part of Texas. Those who are familiar with 
frontier history know quite well the wreck and ruin 
left in the wake of a savage, marauding band of In- 
dians. 

It was just before sunset on a gloomy afternoon. 
Col. Van Deckman had not yet returned from the 
ranch where he had gone- Sue and her mother, who 
had gone for water over the little hill to the stream 
in the valley below, had left only one to keep camp 
till their return. Just as they reached the top of 
the hill on their return a woeful sight met their 
eyes. The camp was in flames, and hurrying away 
northward were seen a band of mounted red skin 
warriors, and in the firm grasp of one of the braves, 
was a victim. It was the eight-year old twin sister 
of Sue Van Deckman. 

All of Col. Van Deckman’s efforts, with such as- 
sistance as he could obtain, proved futile in the at- 
tempt to recover his child. Two years later Mrs. 
Van Deckman died of grief, and henceforth the 
horaekeeping was left to the servants and Sue. 









SUE ELLA 


25 


ENVIRONMENT SHAPES DESTINY. 

A SPECIALTY BETWEEN ACTS 

Association and environment, as a rule, make peo- 
ple what they are. Sue Van Deckman had been sent 
to a school of merit to complete her education. This 
was only one event in her life. Then she returned 
home to share in the vicissitudes of frontier life- At 
this early day in Texas— as it has always been in all 
new countries— that function called “swelT^ society 
was not thought of, especially in localities remote 
from towns. 

Sue Van Deckman was a refined, cultivated girl 
with no chance of better association than that of 
roving young men and cow boys. It would naturally 
follow then, that she would become affectionally at- 
tached to either of her cousins, Henry Gordon or 
John Calhoun, either one of whom was nearer her 
intellectual equal than any other man in all the 
land. This is not said to the disparagement of either 
of the heroes so prominent in this story. 

The affections of a woman, like the tendrils of a 
clambering vine, will grasp for support the nearest 
object accessible— at least, this was so before the 
day of man’s ability to “dig-up” became inadequate 
to the woman’s desire to spend. It may be vice 
versa now. 

It follows then that Sue’s undivided association 


26 


SUE ELLA 


with Henry, since John^s departure, would, day by 
day, cause her to become an easy prey to Henryks 
aspiration. This close association incubated a spirit 
of tender affection that rendered unnecessary a for- 
mal betrothal, but it was mutually understood by 
both, and the father of Sue, that when Henry re- 
turned from the war a marriage would take place in 
the Van Deckman home. 

It is possible and perhaps very probable that had 
Sue^s opportunity for meeting young men been more 
favorable, she could not have made a better “catch' ^ 
than was either Henry or John. She had two suit- 
ors to select from, but fate intervened, for weal or 
for woe, and left only one. 

The custom has ever prevailed, in match making, 
which deprives woman the right to propose, and 
leaves her only the choice to dispose. Even moral 
philosophy has never yet been able to satisfactorily 
explain the necessity of this discrimination in favor 
of the man. So long as this regime prevails, per- 
haps it will not be deemed prudent for young ladies 
to be too bold But as time flies many customs are 
changed, and, as many people have already begun to 
consider courtship and marriage as nothing more 
than a business transaction, the time may not be 
very far in the future when the wooer and the wooed 
shall not be known by any distinction of sex. 

MORAL 

The moral to be gained from the above “Specialty 
Between Acts," is this: Mothers can not be too 
careful about their daughter's association. In the 
constant company of the doubtful or disolute young 
man is where the danger lurks. 


SUE ELLA 


27 


HENRY PREPARES TO LEAVE 

All preparations, as Henry thought, had been com- 
pleted for his departure. His uniform— the South- 
ern gray— had been cut and made to order by a tailor 
at San Antonio, and was of elegant style and finish. 

It will not be amiss to state just here that when 
the war broke out between the North and South that 
nearly, or quite all, the factories and arsenals were 
in possession of the North. This condition of affairs 
made it necessary for the Texas troops to furnish 
their own arms and equipment. At that day in Texas 
the six-shooter was the most fatal, as well as the 
most universally used of all fire arms. No such 
thing was known as concealed weapons. Every cow 
boy had one or two revolvers buckled around his 
waist, and if he were expecting serious trouble, had 
one strapped on either side of his saddle horn. They 
were worn to church, worn every day and every 
where. In fact the six-shooter was considered the 
SINE QUA NON in every adventure. These much 
dreaded and much used little weapons were of the 
old cap-and-ball type, of course, for this was before 
the hammerless automatic was invented. 

The Texas cow boy and ranger could use them 
with amazing dexterity, and in a charge, or in close 
quarters, could get in a lot of bloody work in a very 
short time. Taking the bridle reins in his teeth and 
a revolver in each hand, an expert could shoot in 


28 


SUE ELLA 


front or o» either side of him with wonderful pre- 
cision while his horse was running at full speed. 

This being the most convenient as well as the 
most available weapon, Henry had been provided 
with two pearl handle revolvers— presents from Col. 
Van Deckman. 

On the Van Deckman ranch were three cow boys, 
who resolved to go with Henry to New Mexico and 
join the same command; and be it said to their credit 
no braver boys than Anson Jones, Dave Riley and 
Harry Noble ever fired a gun in defense of the South- 
ern cause. 

HENRY AND SUE SWAP HORSES 

‘ ‘Now, Henry, the time has come when we must 
say good-bye. Since you have made up your mind to 
join the army, I have decided to change horses with 
you’' 

“Will wonders never cease!” exclaimed Henry. 
“Do you consent for me to ride your noble Bruce on 
my perilous mission?” 

“Yes, Henry, such is my conclusion. I want to 
see you well mounted. The service of a good horse 
has often saved the life of a good man.” 

“But you must remember. Sue, that the hardships 
to which he will be exposed— long rides on force 
marches, and perhaps half feed most of the time 
will soon reduce him to a skeleton. The probability 
is you will never see him again; evidently, you will 
never see him in his present condition.” 



NOW .SUE, THE TIME HAS COME FOR 

US TO SAY GOOD BYE. 


I 




SUE ELLA 


29 


“Don’t try to arouse my sympathies, Henry, True, 
I may never see you again either; but we are trust- 
ing now to the fortunes of war. I have resolved that 
you shall ride him, and that settles it for this, and 
for all time to come.” 


30 


SUE ELLA 


CHAPTER 6. 

SUE’S PARTING WORDS 

“Not yet, Henry, shall I agree with you, that war 
is a necessary evil; but the present conflict is already 
reaching gigantic proportions, and now your services, 
in common with all true sons of the South, becomes 
inevitable. I shall not attempt to interest you as I 
have before remarked, with the justice or injustice 
of either the South or the North in this great con- 
flict. I only contend that the many millions of dol- 
lars used annually for the maintainance of standing 
armies, battle ships and the equipment of war could 
be spent to better advantage in the peaceful pur- 
suits of commerce and all that pertains to the ad- 
vancement of education and civilization. 

“Only think, Henry, how many schools and colle- 
ges could be maintained with the money that is be- 
ing spent to make widows and orphans, and bring 
woe and misery to the human race. Would it not be 
far better to spend these millions of dollars annually 
to build public highways, manufactories, homes for 
the poor and indigent and in a thousand and one dif- 
ferent ways help the helpless and push civilization 
to a higher plain? 

“The time will come some day, Henry, when all 
questions and disputes between nations will be left 
to courts of arbitration, or peace conferences. Mod- 


SUE ELLA 


31 


ern modes of warfare will soon become too destruc- 
tive. Then the great rulers of nations will begin to 
think more about the means of preserving peace 
than about rushing to arms for every petty cause 
that may excite their envy and jealousy. 

“You are not responsible for this war, Henry; 
neither is any private soldier, fighting in the ranks 
today, responsible. There has been a lack of con- 
servatism among the great leaders of the nation. 
What historians are pleased to call an honest differ- 
ence of opinion has found no other solution to the 
vexed question. The matter of locality rather than 
the question of right or wrong has arrayed brother 
against brother and father against son. 

“The conflict is on. The inevitable has come, and 
now, Henry, there is only one honorable course for 
you to pursue, and that one you have already resolv- 
ed to take, I would not deter you; on the contrary, 
in order to equip you, I shall part with my greatest 
treasure — Bruce . 

‘ ‘Since it occurs that our proud Lone Star State is 
seriously threatened with invasion by the foe, with 
all the dire calamities that follow in the wake of an 
invading army, it becomes your indispensible duty to 
go in defense of home and country. May the good 
Lord protect you against disease and the bullets of 
the enemy.'' 


THE TELL-TALE PHOTO 
“As a token of our relationship, not to speak of 


32 


SUE ELLA 


the more sacred ties of affinity, I will now offer you, 
Henry, this plain card which bears on its face my 
picture and yours. You remember the time when it 
was taken. Keep it in your pocket nearest to your 
heart. It will serve to remind you of the girl you 
left behind. 

‘‘Haven’t you a duplicate of this card?” asked 
Henry, as he extended his hand to receive it- 

‘‘Yes,” replied Sue, ‘‘there are two; here is the 
other which I will keep.” 

Henry took the card from Sue’s hand and wrote on 
the reverse side: 

“If ever I get through this war. 

And Lincoln’s boys don’t bind me. 

I’ll make my way straight back again 
To the girl I left behind me.’* 

‘‘Now, Sue, the time has come for us to say good- 
bye. No other call to leave you would I obey. De- 
fense of home and State— the call is supreme. My 
duty is plainly and unmistakably set forth. You 
must be consoled with the thought that I go for 
your sake, rather than my own.” 

‘‘I am perfectly resigned to the inevitable, Henry. 
My chief concern now is, that you make a true and 
brave soldier. May it never be said of you that you 
failed to do your duty on each and every occasion. 
May it never be your misfortune to exhibit the speed 
of the noble horse, Bruce, in a disgraceful retreat 
before a pursuing enemy. Be brave, Henry, and if 
you perish in the conflict, fall with your back to the 
field and your face to the foe.” 


SUE ELLA 


33 


CHAPTER 7. 

ON THE TRAIL 

Six hundred and fifty miles was the measured dis- 
tance over a desolate, almost barren plain, from San 
Antonio to El Paso. The route extended along the 
old Santa Fe trail, first surveyed and traveled by the 
fearless, reckless, gold-seeking Spaniards, who dared 
the dangers of the Indian's tomahawk, and tramped 
their way from Matagorda Bay, Texas, to San- 
ta Fe, New Mexico, while George WashingtoB was 
fighting the battles of the Revolutionary War. Even 
many years prior to that date the same class of 
Spanish adventurers had founded the city of Santa 
Fe, which bears the distinction of being the oldest 
city in the United States. 

On this famous trail, in the early part of Decem- 
ber, 1861, Henry Gordon and his three comrades— 
Anson Jones, Dave Riley and Harry Noble— were 
making the best time possible to overtake Gen. Sib- 
ley's command, which had marched from San Anto- 
nio about one month previous. The young soldiers 
were all well mounted and equipped with two revol- 
vers each. They had a pack-horse— Old Ball— and 
on his back was strapped the commissary and camp 
luggage. 

The season was dry and the roadway hard as pave- 
ment. All the country in its scope looked very much 


34 


SUE ELLA 


the same. Habitation sparse, and water scarce. 
Each day^s scenes were very much like the preced- 
ing— mesquite, cactus and stones. 

The young men reached El Palso at the time of 
Christmas holidays. The town was celebrating— in 
other words, the town was on a whizz. The boys 
expected to overtake Sibley’s command at this place, 
but no vistage of the army was seen. They made 
inquiry and received conflicting reports. Some of 
the people they interrogated said the command had 
passed on, others affirmed that it had not- 

The young soldiers did not care to mix with the 
drunken rabble, as politics in the town was bubbling 
over. Some favored the Union and others favored 
the Confederacy, so they concluded to press on, with 
no delay, to other parts where more definite and reli- 
able information could be obtained. If they should 
get in advance of the command it would overtake 
them, if otherwise, they would overtake it. 

THE VALLEY OF DEATH 

To the student of history and geography, it is un- 
necessary to state that after crossing the New Mex- 
ico line at El Paso, the old trail led up the Tularosa 
Valley, or, as it was known at this time, the Tularosa 
Desert, which included the low land region between 
the Mesa Jumanes and Jarilla Mountains. Nearly a 
dozen other names have been applied to this valley, 
such as Gran Desert, White Sands, Lenora Messa, 
Alamorgordo Desert and others. The climate of Tul- 


SUE ELLA 


35 


arosa Basin is typical of the arid Southwest. The 
sky is clear and the atmosphere is dry and rare. 

It is said this desert made a powerful impression 
on the imagination of early travelers, and because of 
its dangers from lack of water and from Apache In- 
dians, it was commonly known as the Jornada, del 
Muerto, or “Journey of the Dead.’' 

The soldier boys traveled several days along this 
dangerous trail without receiving any definite infor- 
mation about the Texas army. Harry Noble, who 
used to drive with the cattlemen on the old trail to 
Kansas, was partially familiar with the trail, and 
served as guide. On the evening before the incident 
that is now about to be related, the young men 
reached a favorable camping place. The spot was a 
kind of oasis in the desert— plenty of fresh water, 
trees large enough for shade and some luxurious 
grass for grazing the horses. 

Next morning Harry Noble suggested they remain 
in camp until noon for the purpose of taking a rest 
and give their horses a little grazing. Dave Riley 
seemed to be impatient and did not favor the sugges- 
tion. The matter was put to a vote and carried by 
three to one in favor of taking a rest. 

At noon they broke camp and pranced off gaily. 
A little rest had put new life into horse and rider. 
The military quartet, armed with trusty revolvers, 
wearing new uniforms and mounted on fieet horses, 
grew to be rather hilarious. 


36 


SUE ELLA 


THE RUN FOR LIFE 

“Say, boys,^’ exclaimed Henry, who was proudly 
leading the van, “don^t you wish we could scare up 
a little fun? Fm getting real hungry for some ex- 
citement. Aren’t you fellows, too?” 

“Be quiet, pard,” replied Anson. “The fun will 
come soon enough. Don’t bear so hard in your stir- 
rups; you might push your hat crown out.” 

“That’s all right,” retorted Henry. “Fm a nat- 
ural born West Pointer. Expect to be given a lieu- 
tenancy the first whack; then you fellows will be 
glad to obey my orders.” 

“Such nonsense,” put in Harry. “After old Tom 
Green has trotted you through several months, you’ll 
find that some of the starch has been knocked out’en 
you.” 

“Ha, ha!” ejaculated Henry. “Wish we could 
meet a bear or a Mexican lion. Just as soon as not 
take a pop at an Indian buck— hold up!” exclaimed 
he as he drew his pistol and fired at a sage hen which 
was fiying across the trail. 

The echo from a nearby bluff reverberating the 
sound of the revolver had hardly died away, when 
clatter, clatter, clatter, came the sound of horses’ 
hoofs in the distance behind them. It required only 
a glance of the eye backward to reveal the situation. 
The spell was broken. Henry’s wished-for excite- 










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SUE ELLA 


37 


merit had come, bat rather too sudden and too se- 
rious to suit his fancy. 

“The Indians are after us, boys/^ exclaimed An- 
son, who was in the rear leading the pack-horse. 
There were eight of the Indian bucks, mounted on 
Spanish ponies and armed with citizens^ rifles, and 
they were riding full speed. 

Dave Riley was the only one of the boys who had 
ever had any experience with Indians, and he gave 
the order: “Dismount, boys; use your horses for 
protection and let's give 'em a stand-off." 

Henry's quick, calculating eye made estimate of 
the number, “Two to one; by golly, boys, we can't 
buck against that number". And putting his spurs 
to Bruce's flanks dashed away like a rocket. Anson 
dropped the reins of his pack-horse and followed suit. 

Dave was in the act of dismounting when Harry 
cried out: “Stay on your horse, Dave; we two can't 
check them, " and with this short consultation of 
war, the military quartet flew lickety-whizz. Henry 
was in the lead on the start, but the other boys soon 
caught up and the four were running almost abreast. 
The Indians were by this time in easy range and fired 
a volley at their paleface brethren. 

Simultaneous with report of the guns, Bruce seem- 
ed to stumble, uttered a mournful groan, and down 
came horse and rider, with all equipment, in one 
promiscuous heap. No halt was made on account of 
this, the first tragic act on the stage of war. Clat- 
ter, clatter, went the three survivors, and ditto the 
bloodthirsty savages, whose hideous yells had already 


38 


SUE ELLA 


created a sensation of terror in the minds of the pur- 
sued. 

It was phenominal that not one of the Indians 
halted to take Henry's scalp. Under the excitement 
of the chase, and highly elated over their first suc- 
cess, they thought it an easy task to kill or capture 
the other three; then they would return to gather up 
the “spoils of war." 

Rider and horse left on the plain, 

With no power to rise again. 

The first half mile of the race proved that the well 
bred horse was more than a match for the Spanish 
pony, for the boys had gained perceptibly on the In- 
dians and were beyond the reach of their rifles. 

OLD BALL, THE PACK-HORSE 

When Anson Jones dropped the reins of “Old 
Ball," the pack-horse, the faithful old animal, carry- 
ing two hundred pounds of camp equippage, stopped 
by the wayside and began to graze on the dry, stub- 
by grass. He indicated no feeling of interest in the 
chase and grazed around as unconcernedly as if 
nothing had happened. Just how, or when the lug- 
gage on his back should be removed was no decider- 
atum of Old Ball, since he now had time to graze 
about and do as he pleased. 

Little did he reck on being left terra incognita, 
or speculate on the ultimatum of a military episode 
in which he had played a neutral part. Should the 
Indians return and take him prisoner and seize upon 


SUE ELLA 


39 


the treasures in the burden he bore, it was no con- 
cern of his to produce a bill of lading before the Red- 
man^s council in evidence as to whether or not his 
cargo was deemed contraband of war. 

In truth, “Old BalF^ had not volunteered for mili- 
tary service, any how; but had been conscripted and 
forced into service to bear the burden, in order that 
a more valuable animal might be spared to fill a place 
of higher respectability. If great victories were to 
be gained, and trophies of war should be won, it was 
not his expectation to be given a palm, or have a 
single star added to his crown. 

MORAL 

Dumb animals, like private soldiers, must obey the 
orders of those to whom they belong. The common 
soldier must bear the heat and burden of the war— 
bear the hardships, brave the bullets of the foe, and 
then be content to see the palm of victory awarded w 
him who never fired a gun. 

When Longfellow wrote: 

“Be not like dumb, driven cattle— 

Be a hero in the strife,” 

he made no reference, whatever, to military heroes 
engaged in the strife of bloody conflict. He was 
speaking of the peaceful pursuits and vocations of 
every day life. If the figure of speech he carried 
beyond this, then may it not be seriously asked if the 
common soldier does not belong to the class of 
“dumb, driven cattle?“ 


40 


SUE ELLA 


SEEKING REFUGE 

Henry, though HORSE DE COMBAT, was not serious- 
ly in j ured. It was a remarkable tumble for horse 
and rider. Bruce’s forefeet had plunged into a prai- 
rie dog den. The momentum pitched Henry for- 
ward under Bruce’s neck and shoulders, and while 
the weight of the horse pinned him to the earth, 
Henry’s body lay across the hitch rein and held 
Bruce’s head to the ground, so that neither of them 
could rise. Henry did not lose all presence of mind 
in his fright. He soon recovered from the shock, 
took in the situation at once, drew his knife and cut 
the rope. Bruce being thus released, rose quickly 
to his feet, leaving his master at liberty to do like- 
wise. 

Henry was on his feet in time to see the Indians 
disappear oyer a hill nearly a mile in the distance. 
His comrades were too far gone to be seen. 

Henry’s first thought was QUID faciendam? The 
question was answered by hasty action. He mount- 
ed Bruce, and turning at a right angle from the road, 
he galloped away across the desert plain. Bruce 
left no tracks behind. The ground was hard as pave- 
ment and covered with small stones. On and on he 
went. Henry was now making practical application 
of his favorite maxim: “self-preservation, the first 
law of nature.’’ He wanted to make good his es- 
cape before the Indians returned. Loss of time and 


SUE ELLA 


41 


lack of speed might pay the penalty with his scalp. 
Bruce seemed to understand the situation and was 
going at more than half speed. 

Several miles had been traveled when, Henry look- 
ing in the distance on his course, saw what seemed 
to be a dense thicket of cedars and pines. His ob- 
servation was not confined, altogether, to what ap- 
peared ahead of him. Constantly he was looking in 
the direction his comrades had gone. If he could 
gain access to the thicket before the Indians had 
time to return, he hoped to elude their search and 
make good his escape. Nearer and nearer he ap- 
proached the desired covert. 

Looking again northward with dread apprehension 
of the Indians' return, he beheld a sight that was 
wonderfully sublime. It appeared to be an angry 
cloud reaching from earth to Heaven — full of fury 
and frightful to behold. Mighty billows rose and 
fell like the tumult of an angry sea in time of storm. 
With no obstacle to impede its progress and no pow- 
er to modify its fury, it hastened with increased ve- 
losity in its onward course. It was one of the most 
terrific sand storms ever known in this country. 

Henry's thoughts were now diverted from a dread 
of the Indian's scalping knife, and his mind was se- 
riously engaged computing the distance to the cloud 
of sand and gravel, and the time, also, he was given 
to enter the covert of the thicket. His noble horse, 
with true animal instinct, had taken in the situation 
and, without coaxing, increased his speed. With not 
a moment to spare he entered the thicket as the 
mighty sand storm came sweeping by. 


42 


SUE ELLA 


Henry was now sheltered from the storm by the 
scrubby timber, and if any tracks were left behind 
on his trail they would be blown out or covered by 
the sand. Feeling the certainty of temporary se- 
curity, Bruce^s speed was reduced to a moderate 
gait. After the excitement of the chase, both horse 
and rider were suffering for water. The trail which 
Henry had fortunately struck was leading down to 
the head of one of those small canyons or gulches so 
so numerous, especially in the mountainous 
portions of New Mexico, and the freshness and ver- 
dure of all vegitation indicated that he was not very 
far from water. 

As Henry slowly rode down the lonely hollow, he 
had some time to reflect upon the gravity of the situ- 
ation The first tragic act in the drama of war had 
been played on the stage and he had played the part 
of the unfortunate actor. His conscience vexed him 
for refusing to obey the orders of his comrade, John 
Riley, who wanted to give the Indians battle. He 
had not only refused to obey, but had led the unfor- 
tunate retreat, which he was now willing to ac- 
knowledge as the act of a miserable coward- The 
mental anxiety suffered from being separated from 
his comrades, perhaps for ever, he was willing to ac- 
cept as a just retribution for his ungallant conduct; 
and the recollection of his expressed desire for an 
opportunity to show his unerring markmanship as 
well as the courage of a fearless hero, made his 
retrospective thoughts the more painful — even to the 
verge of being almost unbearable. While his mind 
was laboring under these remorseful presentations 
he conceived the thought of shooting his horse and 
sending a bullet through his own brain. 


SUE ELLA 


43 


CHAPTER 8 

GHOSTS OF THE AWFUL GULCH 

The sun was setting like a golden disk on the rim 
of the distant horizon, and soon twilight would let 
drop the sombrous curtain that would separate the 
last tragic act of this eventful day from the horrors 
and ghostly apparitions yet to appear in the darkness 
of the coming night. Remote from civilization, or 
habitation— save by the ferocious, bloodthirsty deni- 
sons of the “Wild and Wooly West“ — this dark, lone- 
ly and haunted gulch was hid away between rugged 
cliffs whose rock-rimmed peaks like lone sentinels 
stood guard over the parched and barren plains that 
lay beyond. The path — a narrow trail— was the un- 
disputed highway of savage and beast. No wood- 
man's ax had felled the trees, nor blasting powder 
used to clear the way. Nature's handiwork had not 
been disturbed, save, perhaps, an occasional branch 
or shrub hacked away by the Redman's tomahawk 
or scalping knife Its accommodation was evidently 
intended only for the pedestrian, and one horse and 
rider taxed its capacity to the utmost limit. 

Twilight seemed to linger yet awhile, as if in sym- 
pathy with the dejected, forlorn soldier boy, who 
was still wending his way slowly down the gloomy 
gulch. It was hazzardous to go further, yet, there 
was no place to camp. 


44 


SUE ELLA 


Suddenly the trail merged from the dense thicket 
into a veritable little park, arranged by the hand of 
Nature, in a time of her merriest mood. A space of 
an acre or more in dimension spread out like a green 
carpet On the northern margin of this little glen, 
at the foot of a precipitous bluff, gushed forth a 
spring of pure, living water, which formed a small 
rivulet that meandered its way down the hazy dale 
On the southern border, along the base of craggy 
bluffs, was a fringe of pine and cedar growth- 

Hungry, thirsty and weary, the young hero dis- 
mounted and unsaddled his horse, and very soon 
Bruce was mowing the tall prairie grass that luxur- 
iantly grew along the margin of the little stream. 
Under favorable and friendly conditions this would 
have been an ideal place to camp and spend the 
night, but to one whose heart was throbbing with 
dread apprehension, all appreciation of the beautiful 
and picturesque was lost; and had Henry known the 
legendary history of the famous spot, his forebod- 
ings would have been the more intensely painful. 

No campfire was started for fear of attracting the 
eye of some savage who might be lurking down the 
hollow, or lounging on some hilltop not far away. 
There was even more foundation for the necessity of 
taking this precaution than Henry was yet aware of. 
Little did he dream of being at this time the lone oc- 
cupant of a favorite rendezvous of Indians, adven- 
turers and brigands- If credence be given to legend 
and tradition, this little cave had been the scene of 
more than one mortal combat, and had served as a 


SUE ELLA 


45 


gladiatorial arena in the practice of many savage cus- 
toms. Caves, crevices and crags on the steep moun- 
tain-sides furnished undisturbed lairs for beasts and 
nests for birds. Not far down the gulch in a moun- 
tain-side cave, half hid by an overhanging cliff, lay 
the bleached bones of a once mighty chieftain of 
Aztec fame, whose ghost (tradition says) often 
stalked through the gulch in the gloom of the night. 

What would Henry, the vanquished hero, have 
done at this time had he been familiar with the true 
and the legendary history of this famous place? A 
more extended history of this small dale— multu 
IN PARVO — will be omitted to give space for the cli- 
max of Henry's experience through long hours of the 
night. 

Henry's misfortune on the trail that afternoon had 
not left him entirely destitute. He was still equip- 
ped with knapsack, haversack, overcoat and blanket. 
After eating a scanty supper of the rations in his 
haversack, he wrapped himself in his blanket and 
using his saddle for a pillow, laid himself down at 
the root of a tree. 

Instead of falling asleep, Henry's mind led into a 
painful retrospection. He recalled to mind the vivid 
picture of war and all its horrors so glaringly paint- 
ed by Sue Van Deckman. He thought of the peace- 
ful and sumptuous old Van Deckman mansion back in 
Texas, and devoutly longed for its protecting walls 
and its uplifting environment. His peaceful enjoy- 
ment on the ranch was now compared with the dan- 
gers he had met in just one little foretaste of war, 
and he had not yet reached the field of real and 
active combat. 


46 


SUE ELLA 


Henry was now ready to admit that it was more 
congenial to his nature, and that he could render 
better service to himself and his country rounding up 
cattle on the prairies of Texas than he could trying 
to play soldier on the desert plains of New Mexico. 

A feeling of helplessness and despondency passed 
through his mind when he realized what it meant to 
be separated from his three comrades, and the prob- 
ability of them being killed and scalped by the In- 
dians. 

While his mind was thus actively engaged it was 
growing intensely dark. The severe sand storm had 
sent a cloud of dust into the air that now veiled the 
earth from starlight, while the mountains on either 
side as a curtain draped the narrow gulch. “Alone, 
and lost in this mountainous desert,^' he solilquized, 
“and no guide to lead me from this solitary place. 

To a young man who had never known aught but 
the peeceful pursuits of life, the thought was awful; 
but it is an old saying that ‘ 'There is nothing so bad 
but what it could be worse/’ This saying was soon 
verified in Henry’s experience, when suddenly this 
hitherto quiet retreat was transformed into a verita- 
ble hell on earth. As if in obedience to some given 
signal, the denisons of this dark abode simultaneons- 
ly opened the program of the night. The howl of 
savage beasts, mingled with the shrieks of wild 
birds, came from every cliff and cave. The awful 
din was incomprehensible and intensely frightful. 
To the ear of a wild man, such music might have 
been delightful, for every note was in savage har- 


SUE ELLA 


47 


mony as if set by some masterful mind, and all in ac- 
cord with an awe-inspiring spirit that would have 
frightened the demons of hades. 

Henry, too badly frightened to move from his 
couch, peered into the darkness as the tulmut 
seemed to draw nearer, and, if possible, had his 
fears increased by ghostly tableaux of wandering 
spirits, stalking within a few feet of where he lay. 
The ghost of every dead hero within the limits of 
the territory seemed to be an invited guest. Some 
moved with stately tread, others were frantic in 
phenominal gestures, while yet others assuming no 
well defined figure or form darted hither and thither 
in phosphorescent effulgence. 

The entertainment was too strong for Henryks 
nervous temperament. He swooned into a state of 
unconsciousness, which was prolonged into an ob- 
livious sleep of several hourt duration. When he 
awoke the spectres of the night had disappeared; the 
savage music had ceased and a dead silence reigned. 
The pale rim of a third-quarter moon was just peer- 
ing over the crest of a mountain to the east. All 
Nature seemed to be enjoying a sweet repose. 

Henry's nap had been quite beneficial to him. It 
had quieted his nerves and inspired new life and new 
hope in his body and his mind. Bruce had fed to his 
satisfaction and was now also taking a snooze. 

With nothing now visible or audible to disturb or 
molest, Henry raised himself to a sitting posture, 
when suddenly the rays of a flickering flame from 
far down the gulch attracted his vision. It required 


48 


SUE ELLA 


only a moment of thought to define the situation. It 
was an Indian campfire— perhaps the same red dev- 
ils that had given him the chase on the plain, were 
now camping on his trail. This was no apparition; 
it was real danger. Little could be done, however, 
until daylight, and the Indians would hardly break 
camp before that time. 

It was now some time between midnight and day- 
break, and as Henry had no means of ascertaining 
the time, he resolved to take precaution by saddling 
his horse and making ready for a hasty flight, if oc- 
casion required. He then lay down again and soon 
fell asleep. 


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SUE ELLA 


49 


HENRY GORDON^S DREAM 


*THE shadows have flown and night draws apace 
* Her sombrous mantel o'er the corse of day, 

While helpless, forlorn, in this solitary place 
The youthful form of a soldier-boy lay. 

The touch of despair has painted a scene 
From which his mind in refuge must fly; 

Then fitful slumbers give birth to a dream 
Of days and scenes in the sweet gone-by. 

He dreamed of the ranch and its sumptuous home, 
The mansion that stands on the sloping plain, 

The glow of its lights, and the notes that came 
In musical cadence, with sweet refrain. 

In fancy, he sees the expansive plain. 

And the herds that lazily lounge in the shade. 

As he rides adown the meandering lane. 

Or along the paths the herdsmen have made. 

He leans on the gate in front of the home. 

And toys with the ringlets of Sue's auburn curls 

As twilight's glintings are lost in the gloom. 

That ushers the twinkling of distant worlds. 

A delicate touch of her soft, white hand 
Sends a thrill of joy thru the boy's proud soul; 

While little he recks in a wild, strange land. 

Of the dangers; and his destiny yet untold. 


50 


SUE ELLA 


Hk visions nocturnal, yet, real they seem. 
Beguiling the soul of the slumbering boy — 

Now gleaming and shimmering in beautiful sheen 
With paintings and pictures of counterfeit joy: 

One moment only of this vision so fair 
Remains; and the spirit of rest shall have flown 

To give place to the heart-aches of dark despair 
In the soul of the dreamer— lost and forlorn. 

Half asleep, half awake, on his blanket he turns, 
As the roseate dawn lights up the dell; 

Then he realizes as consciousness returns. 

That it was only a dream— a delusive spell. 



SUE ELLA 


51 


CHAPTER 9. 

THE MYSTERIOUS LOCKET 

It was almost sunrise when Henry awoke next 
morning. Evidently he had slept later than he in- 
tended. He had calculated to leave the place at 
break of day and retrace his steps to the open plain 
to prevent the danger of being discovered and fol- 
lowed by the Indians, whose campfire had given him 
warning during the night No time must be lost. 
Bruce was already saddled and eager for the start. 
He could hear the savage laugh and ejaculations of 
the Indians not very far down the gulch. 

Henry sprang to his feet intent on “mounting in 
hot haste, when the form of a new foe met his 
eye. Not more than thirty feet distant stood a griz- 
zly bear-- ready for business. The ugly grin on his 
face and the display of his “hash-choppers' ' con- 
vinced the young hero that there were only two horns 
to the dilemma— he must either fight or fly. In an 
instant Henry's hand was on his revolver. He quick- 
ly resolved to fight — yes, fight to a finish. He had 
played the coward to his sorrow, and now he was 
ready for mortal combat. While in the act of touch- 
ing the trigger, another thought flashed into his 
mind. The bear was approaching slowly but firmly. 
One, two or three shots would dispatch his grizzly 
foe, but thejreport of the pistol would have all the 


52 


SUE ELLA 


Redskins in the gulch on his trail instantly. Quickly 
he decided that precaution was t^e better part of 
valor. To make his escape by flight was better than 
to take risk under adverse circumstances. 

As he placed his foot in the stirrup to mount, his 
eye fell upon a shiny object which lay on the ground 
directly beneath him. Daring to spare one more mo- 
ment of time, he hastily stooped and picked it up, 
then mounted his horse just in time to escape from 
the ferocious beast. 

Before Henry was fairly in the saddle, Bruce made 
a spring forward, and only a few seconds of time 
were necessary to leave the dangers far behind. As 
his nimble footed steed cantered along the narrow 
trail, Henry took the last look behind him to see that 
none of his enemies were following. Then he thought 
of the new found treasure which he was still holding 
in his hand— the tiny little golden disk that he paus- 
ed, ta the risk of personal safety, to pick from the 
ground. 

Only a glance was required to reveal the value of 
his new discovery. It was a gold locket containing 
the picture of a beautiful girl. Under normal condi- 
tions of mind and body, to find a trinket like this in 
a place like that would have set Henry's ingenious 
mind to speculating on the intricacy of its mysterious 
history and accidental discovery. Only a momen- 
tary gaze on the image of the girl, and then he drop- 
ped it loosely into the inside pocket of his coat, where 
it was likely to remain and never be thought of again. 


SUE ELLA 


53 


ON THE PLAIN AGAIN 

“sic TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI/' soHloquized Henry 
as he merged from the thicket and found himself 
again on the expansive, desert plain. “Here lam,'' 
he continued, “in this desolate land. Danger lurks 
on every hand. No habitation, no place of refuge in 
this desert of rocks and sand." 

"Who am I, and why am I here?" he continued to 
muse; and then proceeded to answer his own inter- 
rogations; “I am a lost and forlorn wanderer, who 
left the peaceful pursuits of life to seek military 
glory in a strange and savage land. My last boast 
to my comrades was that I would be promoted from 
the ranks of a common soldier and given the higher 
place of an officer. Now I am convinced that mili- 
tary glory is very costly and the pleasures it gives 
birth to, soon pass away. But I have won no glory. 
On the contrary, I have allowed my once proud, 
boastful spirit to degenerate into the cowardly tac- 
tics of becoming a swift runner rather than a gallant 
fighter." 

“My last promise to Sua Van Deckman was, that I 
would die, if need be, with my back to the field and 
my face to the foe. True, I'm not dead yet, but I 
have had to display some good generalship in two 
hasty retreats— and not a single victory to report in 
my favor." 


54 


SUE ELLA 


Henry was making an honest confession to himself 
in his soliquy; but suddenly a new inspiration took 
hold of his mind. He began to take a different 
view of his conduct, and led out with the following 
monologue: 

“Pshaw! This is all bosh. I never volunteerd to 
come out here in this wilderness, and all alone, fight 
these derned savages and grizzly bears, with all 
the ghosts and phantoms of the mountains and gul- 
ches thrown in. I volunteered to fight civilized men 
like myself. Just give me the inspiration of martial 
music and place me in the van of a brigade of true 
soldiers and I will ‘win my spur.s^ in the first en- 
gagement. War is not such a bad thing when it is 
carried on in a decent, humane way. I am familiar 
with the history of every great battle that has been 
fought within the past five-hundred years, and in 
every instance the historian lights up the battlefield 
with a halo of glory. All this late experience I have 
been having is nothing more than a darned farce.'' 

While Henry was thus musing, Bruce was taking 
his course unguided. The noble horse was thinking 
of the Van Deckman ranch and his former mistress, 
who fed him and curried him with her own dainty 
hands. Yes, he was thinking of Texas, and was 
making his way in that direction. 

When Henry, aroused to a consciousness of the di- 
rection he was traveling, he began with the follow- 
ing coloquy: 

“Right-about-face, Bruce We are not going back 
to Texas yet. What manner of story could we tell. 


SUE ELLA 


55 


or what reasonable exeuse could we offer for such a 
short and shameful experience as this?’’ 

Then turning Bruce’s course from the south to the 
northward, he continued his colloquial mutterings: 
“No sir; we are not billed for a return to Texas yet. 
There are victories to be won and honors to be shar- 
ed in this campaign, and we must press on to higher 
achievements. I will give my flesh as a morsel to 
the coyote and let my bones bleach on the burning 
rocks of the desert, sooner than to return to Sue 
with no better record than I have yet made.” 

The following days of mental anguish and the 
physical sufferings caused by cold, hunger and thirst, 
all of which Henry endured, shall forever remain the 
unwritten part of this story. 

A PAGE OF HISTORY 

In order to properly appreciate this part of the 
narative, the reader must be familiar with the his- 
tory of New Mexico fifty years ago. 

For the sake of the less sensational, and more 
thoughtful reader, a short space will be devoted to 
some historical facts, which will give this story more 
plausibility. 

The people of New Mexico at this time were isola- 
ted from the outside world. Telegraphs and rail- 
roads had hardly been thought of. The first railroad 
to enter the state was in the year 1879, eighteen 
years after the incidents of this story. The old 


56 


SUE ELLA 


stage coach was the popular and only means of quick 
transportation and mail service. A letter or news- 
paper which had been thirty days on the route was 
considered late news from other, parts of the United 
States. 

The total population of the territory was about 
800,000, nine-tenths of whom were Mexicans and 
Spaniards. The people lived in towns and villages, 
or small settlements, for mutual protection against 
hostile Indians. Settlements were few and far be- 
tween, as much of the land at that tim^e was a bar- 
ren desert and destitute of water. It required the 
vigilant service of a standing army to prevent In- 
dian depredations. The country was infested with 
reckless rovers— trappers, traders, freebooters and 
adventurers of all classes. 

Very little farming was done. Produce raised in 
gardens and truck patches supplemented the meats 
of wild or domestic animals, which constituted the 
principal sustenance of life. The skins of wild ani- 
mals were often made into garments, worn especial- 
ly by the male inhabitants. 

Every kind of merchandise was scarce and very 
high. Groceries, dry goods and farm implements 
were hauled in wagons for hundreds of miles across 
the country. It may be a matter of interest to the 
young lady of today to learn that it often required a 
shrewd shopper to buy calico at 50 cents per yard. It 
may be equally as interesting to the man who advo- 
cates low tariff and fights high tariff to learn that 
the import duty on a wagon load of merchandise 


SUE ELLA 


57 


often amounted to five hundred dollars. That was 
some tariff. Wagons laden with merchandise and 
household goods of movers traveled in caravans of 
one hundred or more in one company, and these had 
to be guarded by a body of mounted soldiers. If a 
man undertook to travel any great distance alone, he 
did 80 at the risk of his life. 

HENRY FINDS REFUGE 

After suffering the dangers, hardships and priva- 
tions of three days and nights while in the moun- 
tains, gulches and desert plains, Henry at last reach- 
ed a place of refuge. It was at sunset on the third 
day of his perilous journey, when he arrived at the 
first settlement he had seen since his unfortunate ex- 
perience on the old trail. 

Half starved and half delirous with fever he halted 
at the gate in front of a large and strangely con- 
ducted building. A peculiar looking eldery man 
came out to answer his call. Henry made known his 
htlpiess and destitute condition as best as he could, 
and begged to b^ taken in, at least for the night. 
His pathetic appeal was made known to the lady of 
the house. She came to the front porch and invited 
him in and ordered the steward to take care of his 
horse. 

Henry's condition was critical. He had not tasted 
food since he left Coyote Canon, and water had been 
extremely scarce. He had contracted fever and was 
having spells of delirium. Unconsciously he would 


58 


SUE ELLA 


mutter some untelligible sentences, then would 
scream out: “Turn Old Ball loose, Anson, and let's 
run! The Indians are on us boys, hurry! There, 
look at that horrid beast! Where is my pistol? Shoot! 
Be quick, the bear is after me!" 


SUE ELLA 


59 


CHAPTER 10. 

THE OLD STONE BUILDING 

The popular and most universally used building 
material in the territory previous to, and at this date, 
was adobe, or Mexican brick. Nearly all the build- 
ings in the territory, from the rude one-room hut to 
the more splendid and costly structures, were built 
of this material. The majority of habitations did 
not conform to any special architectural design. The 
prime object was to construct a place of safety, as 
cheaply as possible. 

The building that pertains to this story was not 
built entirely of adobe. It had a stone front and an 
upper story. There were eight rooms on the ground 
floor and four above. On the front was a broad gal- 
lery or portico, from which double doors opened into 
a ten-foot hall which extended full length of the 
building with four rooms on either side. Each room 
was provided with one window looking out on the 
plaza. Each room in the upper story was furnished 
with two small windows and two small doors, one 
door from each room leading out on to a narrow por- 
tico which extended entirely around the building. 
The entrance to the upper story was by means of a 
stairway leading up from the main hall on the inside. 
This house served the purpose of a fortress as well 
as a residence. Two of the upper rooms were used 
as a kind of arsenal, where a few guns, some ammu- 
nition and other military supplies were kept. In 
case of an attack on the settlement by savages, the 


60 


SUE ELLA 


employees on the premises and other citizens near 
by, could assemble here and, while protected by the 
walls, could shoot from the windows of the upper 
story and thus kill or drive back a large band of In- 
dians. 

This noted structure, according to tradition, was 
erected many years before the Civil war by a man 
who belonged to one of the wealthy Armijo families 
—a name conspicuous in Mexican history, especially 
in politics and trade circles. 

The premises had changed hands long since, and 
now the property was owned by Capt- Rudolph 
Lockridge, a man who had grown rich in the fur 
trade and later by speculating in lands and mining 
stock. Capt. Lockridge was also famous as an In- 
dian fighter. He was one of the fearless heroes in 
the territory who espoused the cause of the Confed- 
eracy in the beginning of the Civil war; but hard- 
ships and exposure in earlier days had impaired his 
health, and being beyond the age limit, he was tak- 
ing no active part in the war of secession. All his 
time was employed in looking after the affairs of his 
large estate. 

OCCUPANTS OF THE BUILDING 

Soon after Capt. Lockridge came into possession of 
this princely home (for such it was in that day and 


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61 


time) he, with his wife and a few domestic employ- 
ees, moved to the place where, for a number of 
years, they lived in royal style. Then misfortune 
came. His wife died. 

At the time of Henry’s arrival Capt. Lockridge 
was absent from home, and the premises were kept 
and controlled by a few employees and the Captain’s 
daughter. 

One of the most conspicious characters about the 
place was the Captain’s housekeeper. She was a 
stout, dumpy lady, about fifty years of age, and was 
a widow. Her name was Mary Almedo. She was a 
Catholic in religion, had been given a liberal educa- 
tion, and was a woman of good deportment. On ac- 
count of her generous and affable disposition, rather 
than her age, she was familiarly called “Aunt 
Mary.” She performed a mother’s duty to the 
young lady, Ella Lockridge, the Captain’s daughter, 
and it may be truly said that her love for, and devo- 
tion to the girl was equal to that of a real mother. 

There was another important character on the 
premises. This was Tom Dangerfield Every one 
acquainted with him called him “Uncle Tom” He 
was the Captain’s coachman and hostler. For a 
number of years he had served as stage driver on the 
old El Paso and Santa Fe road. Uncle Tom stood 
about six feet, four inches in the clear, rather spare 
built, kinder knock-kneed and wore a No. 10 shoe. 
He had a small head, large bony face, sunken gref 
eyes and a big Roman nose. Uncle Tom was an im- 
portant looking character when togged up in his 


SUE ELLA 


62 


driving suit— a jockey cap, a tan colored hunting 
shirt, held close by a big red sash, buckskin breech- 
es, bootees and blue socks. He frequently took the 
family out driving and seldom failed to pull off a 
stunt in order to show his ability as a coachman. 
Uncle Tom was a bachelor, nearly three score years 
of age, but had not given up the hope of getting 
married some day- 

When not busily engaged looking after the horses 
and attending to other little matters around the 
place, he was in the kitchen butting into the domes- 
tic affairs of the cook, and making himself handy 
around “Miss Mary,^^ who lived in constant dread of 
him, for she never knew what moment he might rat- 
tle out something about her looking so sweet, getting 
about so spry, or some other nonsensical stuff which 
she had neither the time nor disposition to listen to. 

There are many women living today who have had 
an experience similar to that of Aunt Mary. This 
long, lank coachman was a source of constant annoy- 
ance to the dumpy little widow who cared nothing 
for his attentions, and who wished a thousand times 
that he would lose his job and leave the country But 
in the absence of Captain Lockridge, each employee 
bossed the business of his own department, and un- 
der this administration of affairs Uncle Tom had just 
as much right to remain on the premises as Aunt 
Mary had; hence, there was no hope of getting rid of 
him. 


SUE ELLA 


63 


HENRYKS COVALESCENCE 

For several days Henry lay helpless and uncon- 
scious. Neither Ella nor Aunt Mary had yet learned 
the name of their guest, nor the nature or cause of 
his ailment. A young man dressed in Confederate 
uniform —this was all they knew. When the fever 
began to subside Henry became conscious. With a 
mingled expression of amazement and delight play- 
ing over his features, he gazed at the difierent ob- 
jects that met his eyes during the first moments of 
conscious vision. 

“Sir, are you feeling better?'' The low, sweet 
voice came from the lips of one who stood over the 
bedside, bathing his brow with cold, wet cloths. 
Henry looked up into the sweet, angelic face of the 
girl bending over him. “0, my own dear Sue!" he 
exclaimed; then in a tone of disappointment he 
murmured: “Please excuse me, Miss: I was only 
dreaming' ^ 

The first few days of Henry's convalescent state 
was a delightful experience He had been received 
and nursed to health again by an angel— and that in 
a strange and dreary land* Every comfort and lux- 
ury that could be obtained was lavishly bestowed 
upon him. With untiring energy and unsurpassed 
devotion Ella sought to anticipate every wish and 
supply every want of the handsome young patient. 

Ella's graceful form and beautiful features, to- 
gether with her sweet disposition and self sacrific- 
ing devotion placed her in condition to exercise an 


64 


SUE ELLA 


influence over Henry that was pleasing and at the 
same time perplexing. He began to feel that his, 
already plighted, aifections were being literally sto- 
len from him in spite of his most strenuous efforts to 
devise a plan to check the roguish invasion of his 
new found ideal. He began to speculate upon the 
possibility of a man retaining two loves in his heart 
at the same time. Furthermore, he conjectured on 
the extent of his culpability and saught to know 
whether or not he was responsible fo " the in cidents 
that placed him in his present environment. As he 
grew stronger in body and mind, he grew stronger 
in his conviction of being controlled by the inevita- 
ble decrees of fate. He was making a heroic effort 
to maintain the integrity of his soul with no volun- 
tary intention of invalidating the sanctity of his 
plighted vow to Sue Van Deckman. His vow was 
sacred; it must be kept. 

Under such conditions what could be done? A 
chain of unavoidable circumstances had placed him 
in an attitude of helpliness. The girl who had saved 
his life had a claim much stronger than a second 
mortgage on his person and his affections. That 
she already loved him intensely, if not desperately, 
was clearly demonstrated in her every act. 

When love runs riot, reason is often dethroned, 
and every other impulse of the soul bows in humble 
subordination to its matchless power. Henry, for 
the time, was helpless, but not altogether hopeless. 
He was chagrined at the indisputable fact that his 
affections were divided between two lovers, but 


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SUE ELLA 


65 


without a question as to whieh of the two had the 
better claim on him, he resolved — yes, even swore- 
in his heart that he would never prove false in his 
promise to marry Sue Van Deckman. 

ELLA^S SAD HISTORY 

How quickly lovers can be divorced from the strict 
rules of formality Unshackled intimacy soon dis- 
penses with those troublesome little titles: “Mr 
and “Miss,'' even on short acquaintance. Familiar 
salutations are met with a like responsive greeting, 
hence, young lovers quickly agree to call each other 
by their first names with the “Mr " and the “Miss" 
left off. 

* * * •* 

Henry and Eia had strolled some distance from 
the house, just before sunset, and were occupying a 
rustic seat in a small grove that fringed the valley 
of a busy little brook gurgling and bubbling in its 
onward course, to at last, mingle its waters in the 
rolling tide of the Rio Grande river. 

“Now, Henry," exclaimed Ella, “while we are 
here alone, where none can molest or take note of 
what is said, I desire to relate to you a story that is 
true. For several days I have longed for an occa- 
sion like this, that I might reveal to you a secret 
that very few people know." 

“All that you have yet learned of my history, 
Henry, is, that my name is Ella Lockridge, and even 
this little, is not all true. That old stone building 
with its tenant surroundings and all adjacent lands 


66 


SUE ELLA 


for miles around, belong to Capt Rudolph Lock- 
ridge, and I am his adopted daughter. 

‘ ‘The history of my birth and true parentage, is a 
mystery, and will perhaps forever remain so. All 
that I know of my life is embraced in the incidents 
that came under my observation since I was about 
nine or ten years of age. 

“Capt Lockridge, my reputed father, was at one 
time a famous scout and Indian fighter, and now I 
will relate to you a story he has so often told tome:— 

‘ ‘Several years ago while commanding a company 
of Rangers in the Southern part of Arizona, he learn- 
ed that a band of Ute Indians, camped not far away, 
had in captivity a small white child. On receiving 
this information, he resolved that if possible, he 
would rescue the child. Without being discovered, 
his Rangers surrounded the camp and then made a 
charge. 

“As the fight progressed Capt. Lockridge keipt a 
close watch for the child, which he soon discovered 
in the custody of the chief, or leader of the band. 
He instantly made a charge on this Indian brave. A 
hand-to-hand encounter ensued. The struggle was 
fierce and furious. It was a fight for life or death. 
The child was in the midst of the combat, elinging 
to the Indian chief as its natural, and only protector. 

“Finally Capt. Lockridge succeeded in killing the 
chief and rescuing the child. Now, Henry, accord- 
ing to the Captain's statement, I am that child. 

“But I have not finished telling the story. Dur- 
ing the combat betweed the Captian and the chief, I 


SUE ELLA 


67 


received an accidental stroke on the head. From 
this injury I was for several days in a state of un- 
consciousness When I revived from this condition, 
my past life, so far as memory is concerned, was, 
and is yet, an irretreivable blank. I do not remem- 
ber the name of my parents — not even my own name 
nor the time I was rescued from the Indians, nor 
how many years I was in captivity. 

“The only evidence left to prove my identity is 
this little necklace you see here on my neck. On 
that little plate of gold is inscribed: EJL L A, which 
is all that is known of my history previous to the 
time of my rescue 

“That little necklace, beyond doubt, was placed 
there by the hand of a mother. Who that mother 
is, or where she lives I will, perhaps, never know. 

“Fm a poor orphan, Henry; alone in the world — 
no parents, no relatives and but few acquaintances 

to share the joys or sorrows of my life.'^ 

* * * 

The last gleam of twilight was fast deepening into 
the murky hues of night. Overhead the lovers, in 
the naked branches of a tree, a bevy of little spar- 
rows was twittering, darting into and around a 
swinging wreath of moss, seeking shelter for the 
night. The “prima donna^^ of the dale— a shrill old 
whippoorwill— just a little way down the stream, 
was making the welkin ring with her favorite ditty: 
“Dick married a widow; Dick married a widow;'' — 
thus she sang. With hearts half joyful, half sorrow- 
ful, Henry and Ella, in obedience to the fire-fly's 
signal, walked slowly back to the house. 


68 


SUE ELLA 


CHAPTER 11. 

MYSTERIOUS ABSENCE OF CAPT. LOCKRIDGE. 

“Where is Capt. Lockridge, your father’^? in- 
quired Henry the following day, as he and Ella were 
sitting alone in the front room. 

“That is a question I cannot answer,^' replied El- 
la. The incident that I shall now relate brings out 
another sad story in the history of my life. Capt. 
Lockridge is (or was) a very wealthy man in the 
ownership of real estate, provided all his claims can 
be substantiated and duly recorded- He owns much 
lajid in this territory and Arizona, and also some 
large tracts in Texas. The title to some of his Tex- 
as real estate had never been properly acknowledged 
and duly recorded. 

“Six months ago he left home on horse-back to 
make a journey to Texas, for the purpose of perfect 
ing the titles to his possessions in that state. He 
was to be absent only about six weeks. Six months 
have passed and I have never heard from him; and 
probably never will. I have given him up for dead. 

“When the Civil War begun, it was generally 
known that Captain Lockridge was in sympathy 
with the Confederate States. Sentiment was not 
running high when he left, and a great many promi- 
nent people of this territory were in sympathy with 
the South; but soon after he left home great excite- 
ment prevailed, Union volunteers were called for the 
army, and a tremendous effort was made to keep 


SUE ELLA 


69 


New Mexico in the Union. While on his return from 
Texas, I fear he was apprehended and taken by the 
Union soldiers. If so, he may have been courtmar- 
tialed as a spy, or dealt fatally with as a traitor. 

“If this misfortune did not befall him, it is then 
probable that he was captured and killed by the In- 
dians. I have given up all hope of ever seeing, or 
hearing from him again. 

‘ ‘The death of my father, leaves me in a very sad 
and hopeless condition. In all the courts of the 
country I am known as the sole heir to the Lockridge 
estate, which, as before intimated, is a handsome 
fortune. But I am only a girl, and have no business 
education or experience in taking care of, or dispos- 
ing of property. For many years this country has 
served as a dumping ground for crooks, adventurers, 
speculators and unprincipled characters of all classes. 
With no male guardian or protector, it is likely I 
will fall a victim to fraud and deception and soon be 
reduced to poverty, and thrown upon the cold char- 
ities of the world. 

HENRYKS NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 

During Henryks convalescent stage he took a walk 
once a day through the little settlement adjacent to 
the old stone building. The little adobe huts were 
occupied by tenants on the Lockridge estate — men 
and their families who had been employed by Capt. 
Lockridge to work a mine near by. One of the most 
interesting of these employees, whom Henry met, 
was an old Indian who called himself by the name of 


70 


SUE ELLA 


Go Pete. All the employees about the premises call- 
ed him Pete. He was an incessant talker and spoke 
the English language fairly well, at least he could 
make himself understood. He lived by himself in a 
little adobe hut just below the lot, and the principal 
part of his duty was to look after the cattle, milk for 
the Lockridge family, and piddle around — a sort of 
handy-man about the place. 

Henry found Pete to be a very interesting char- 
acter. In his younger days he had roved all over 
the west and was as familiar with the topography of 
New Mexico as if it had been only a ten-acre park. 
He knew every watering place, was familiar with 
the mountain ranges, had explored every canyon, 
and knew the direction and distance to every place 
of interest or note within the limits of the territory. 

Pete would entertain Henry for an hour at a time 
relating his adventures and hairbreadth escaj3es 
while chasing the buffalo over the plains and hunt- 
ing grizzley bears in the mountains. He still held 
fresh in his memory every place where he had per- 
formed some act of heroism or pulled off some extra 
stunt in trapping his game 

HENRY PREPARES TO LEAVE. 

Henry Gordon was honest in his intention to be a 
soldier. He had sufficiently recovered now to make 
another effort to reach Gen. Sibley's brigade and join 
himself to that command. During his convalescent 
stage he had laid away his confederate uniform and 


SUE ELLA 


n 


was wearing a plain suit which he had brought in 
his knapsack. This was to prevent apprehension on 
the part of Federal officers, should he be discovered. 

Henry was anxious to take his leave, and yet he 
most painfully dreaded the ordeal. Every day he 
remained only afforded Ella another opportunity to 
wind another coil around his heart and make it still 
harder for him to escape. He had been kept so 
closely under the spell by Ella^s angelic face and 
facinating manners that he had not even thought of 
looking at Sue Van Beckman's photo, which had re- 
mained undisturbed in his over-coat pocket since his 
arrival 

Leaving the dinner table rather uncerimoniously, 
he hastened to his room and closed the door after 
him. He wanted to look at Sue's picture, hoping to 
catch fresh inspiration and renewed courage in help- 
ing him to break away from his new found ideal. 

When Henry held Sue's picture before his eyes he 
was struck with amazement. “How can it be," he 
mu tered to himself, “that two girls, who are in no 
way related can resemble each other so much in 
form and feature? Surely I have not yet regained 
my consciousness. I must be dreaming. 

“Should Ella discover this picture, then she would 
know that I have a sweet-heart in Texas." Then 
thinking that it would not be prudent to take further 
risk of her discovering the picture, he cut a slit in 
the pocket and dropped the card through between 
the lining and the outer cloth of the garment; then 


f2 


SUE ELLA 


he walked to the main hall, hung the coat on a rack 
and returned to his room. 

Henry purposed to get his luggage ready for the 
journey before he disclosed to Ella his intention of 
leaving immediately. Any loss of time in prepara- 
tion might prove fatal to his plan, and he was plan- 
ning for a hasty farewell. He dreaded the subtile 
influence of Ella Lockridge quite as much as he had 
dreaded a hand-to-hand encounter with the bear in 
the Canyon, and thought it would require as much 
courage to escape from the one as it had haste to 
fly from the other. He had decided to have every- 
thing in readiness and leave early the next morning. 

THE SAME MYSTERIOUS LOCKET. 

While Henry was thus musing he heard a gentle 
tapping at the door. He turned the bolt and invited 
Ella in, for it was she, who wanted to know why he 
had so abruptly left the dinner table a few minutes 
before. 

The intuition of woman is something that no phi- 
losopher has ever been able to define, and Henry 
was now to have his first experience with this in- 
comprehensible something, which Ella, in common 
with all her sex, possessed in no small degree. 

“Be seated, Ella,^’ he kivited kindly. “I was just 
looking through my knap-sack, and— and — 

“And getting ready for a journey,'' she rather 
impertinently interrupted. “Now Henry," she con- 
tinued, ‘ 1 want to persuade you to remain here for 


SUE ELLA 


73 


at least one month, to advise and assist me in this 
great business left in my charge. Pm quite sure 
I need your assistance just at this critical time more 
than the army of the Confederacy does. You tell 
me that you were left for dead by your comrades 
on the Old Trail. They, no doubt, have reported the 
same to the commanding general, who is not expect- 
ing you to report for service. Do promise me, Hen- 
ry, that you will remain one month and assist me 
in looking after the affairs of my estate. 

Henryks anticipations were now reaching the cli- 
max. The event he had expected, and sought to 
evade, had caught him unawares. The intuition of 
woman is more than a match for the logic of man. 
Henry had grown nervous under the influence of El- 
la^s importunities He was speechless— almost pow- 
less, and looking for something to do, rather than 
thinking of something to say, he nervously seized 
the coat of his uniform (a gray jacket) with intent 
to place it in his knapsack, and giving it a quick 
jerk, a small, round piece of metal fell from the in- 
side pocket and rolled on the floor near Ella^s feet. 

Ella carelessly picked up the trinket for the pur- 
pose of returning it to Henry. The concussion re- 
ceived in falling had sprung the lid which now stood 
ajar. Who can imagine Ella’s surprise and con- 
sternation, when a glance of her keen eye, revealed 
the fact that the locket contained a picture of her- 
self? 

“0, Henry!” she exclaimed excitedly— almost 
frantically, “where on earth did you get my locket 


74 


SUE ELLA 


and picture— the very same that my father carried 
with him when he left home six months ago? Why 
have you kept this thing concealed from me? What 
manner of man are you, and what can be your de- 
sign. A villian, perhaps, you are! Yes a murderer. 
Is it possible you have murdered and robbed my 
father and come to seek shelter under his roof with 
evil intent? 

“0, God of mercy! protect me, a poor helpless or- 
phan! Young m^an, the accidental dropping of that 
locket has too clearly revealed to m*e the purpose of 
your visit to these premises. I verily believe you 
have in some manner put my father out of existence 
and that you now have in your possession his large 
bill book containing all the deeds, notes and mort- 
gages pertinent to the legality of this large estate, 
and being thus possessed you intend to defraud me 
out of all this wealth. 

• ‘And this is the kind of hypocrite I have been en- 
tertaining with the devotion of a sister— yes, even 
more — the villain I have been loving with ail the 
earnestness of my soul.’’ 

With the close of the last sentence Ella became 
prostrate and dropped from her chair with her face 
on the floor. 

TOM IS APPREHENDED AND DEFEATED. 

“I say. Miss Mary; there^s going to be somethin’ 
doing, around here purty soon aint they?” 

‘ ‘What do you ref er to, Tom? I’ve not observed 


SUE ELLA 


75 


anything out of the ordinary.'' 

“Ha' nt you noticed that Ella and that feller who 
is hanging out here are gettin' purty thick?" 

“0, well; what of that? They are young people 
and, of course, young people love to be together." 

“That's so. Old people, like you an' me, like to 
be together, too, sometimes, and--" 

“Dry up, Tom; that will do now. If you don't 
know any thing else to say, just keep quiet. You 
shouldn't talk when you have nothing to talk about." 

“But I have got somethin' to talk about and you 
wont let me talk it. You don't know what I'm goin' 
to say, but — " 

“No; and I don't care, either. You don't need to 
say anything, to me. What business have you in 
here, any how?" 

“I've got a purty important business, I think; but 
you wont let me tell it. I was—" 

“No, I wont; I don't care any thing about your 
business. Tell it to some one else, and let me alone. 

“Say, Miss Mary; don't you think we are goin' to 
have a weddin’ here purty soon, if that feller keeps 
bangin' on?" 

“Shut your mouth, Tom; all you think about is 
marrying. A wedding! Well, what if we do? How 
does that concern you?" 

"How? Well, it is this: I thought we might have 

two— pull 'em both off at once; and save ' Rattle, 

bang!! 

Aunt Mary was a woman of sweet temper, but 
forbearance ceased to be a virtue, on this occasion. 


78 


SUE ELLA 


She threw a rolling-pin at Tom's skimpy head- 
missed it, of course — knocked a dish pan off the 
table and broke a glass pitcher. Tom's last sentence 
was never completed. 

ELLA'S APOLOGY 

It is hardly necessary to st ite that Henry did not 
renew his journey the following morning, Ella's 
words and actions had brought on unexpected trou- 
ble— in fact, it was something never dreamed of by 
either of them. Another inevitable decree of fate — 
or was it providential? A matter of mystery and 
perplexity, made the more so by Ella's hasty accusa- 
tion of Henry, that to which the only apology may 
be offered, is, she was acting under the impulse of 
the moment. It cannot be said that she was govern- 
ed, either by intuition or reason, for neither had 
time to assert itself. 

When Ella saw her locket she seized upon the 
circumstance as a matter of incontrovertible evidence 
though it was only circumstantial— and was trying 
to follow it to a logical conclusion, while suffering 
under the influence of a nervous shock that had 
dethroned her reasoning powers. 

* * * 

Now, Henry, during the term of my short life it 
never before has become necessary for me to apolo- 
gize to any one, but my conduct toward you in the 
incidents of last evening make it necessary that I 
earnestly— if not devoutly — ask your forgiveness. 


SUE ELLA 


77 


Since recovering from nervous prostration, I am 
persuaded that you have an interesting story to 
relate about the locket, and I am very anxious to 
hear it; but before you begin, Henry, I want you to 
tell me that you forgive me of all the hard terms I 
may have used in connection with the incident of 
last evening. 

Henry briefly, though effectually, convinced Ella 
that he held no ill feeling toward her; then he in a 
concise, yet exhaustive narative, related his experi- 
ence in the awful gulch where he accidentally dis- 
covered the locket. 

“I will accept your statement as true, Henry, but 
there is one matter of evidence in the case that I 
alone am able to detect and explain. My father 
carried the locket with him to have it repaired. The 
clasp was broken and it would not stay shut. Now 
look for yourself. The locket has been repaired. This 
proves that my father was on his return from Texas 
when he met his awful fate. I now believe that he 
was torn to pieces by some wild animal in that fear- 
ful canyon where you found the locket. 

“Henry, I am so glad that you did not become 
offended at me, and leave last evening. If you had 
done so, I might have been seized with another false 
suspicion • Again, I need your help now more than 
ever. I want you to go with me to the place where 
you found the locket, for there I will, perhaps, find 
father's bones, which I will bring back and bury on 
the hill-side yonder beside his deceased wife. That 
will be the last service I can render him, and I am 


78 


SUE ELLA 


anxious to do that much/' 

“Your intention is worthy, Ella, but you must not 
doubt my veracity when I tell you that I was lost, 
and part of the time delirious on my way from that 
canyon to this place. I do not know what direction, 
nor how far it is from here. I was three days mean- 
dering— zigzaging— over the desert and didn't know 
what course I was traveling when I reached this 
place. You know I was delirious for some time 
after my arrival here." 

“0, how can I bear the thought, Henry. Will you 
make an effort to find the canyon. I can't give it 
up without an effort." 

No, Ella; there is no use It may be one hundred 
or more miles away. I don't know which direction 
to start." 

Ella gave up in despair, and began to weep. Hen- 
ry was willing to prolong his stay a few days for 
her sake, bat was entirely unable to grant her the 
assistance she desired. He might search in vain for 
Several months — might never find the place again; 
besides it was, to one not acquainted with the coun- 
try, a dangerous undertaking. 

GO PETE COMES TO THE RESCUE. 

At last a hopeful thought struck Henry. He 
remembered Pete, his Indian friend, who had told 
him so much about the different places in New Mex- 
ico. Pete may know something of the place where 
the locket was found. 


SUE ELLA 


79 


“Cheer up, Ella,^' exclaimed Henry. “I have 
thought of something that may help us out of this 
perplexing matter. What do you know about Go 
Pete, the old Indian, who lives near the ravine, just 
below the lot? I have been spending some time of 
late listening to his big stories; and he seems to know 
a great deal about the topography of this country. 
If I can describe the canyon to him he may be able 
to tell me where to find it.’’ 

“0, Pete is nothing but a big blow,” replied Ella. 
“I place no confidence in any thing he says. But as 
there is nothing else to be done, you might speak to 
him about it if you think there is any hope of get- 
ting information from that source.” 

Henry started immediately for Pete’s little hut. 
The old Indian soon drifted into his pet theme. Hen- 
ry, without expressing any desire to learn anything 
in particular, led old Pete out by occasionally asking 
a question or two. Finally, without showing any 
great anxiety to know, he asked Pete if he knew of 
a place called Coyote Canyon? 

“Och! you bet,” replied Pete. “Me knows. Me 
kille big bear thar too, one time. Good water, big 
moun tains. Big Injun camp one time. Me know.” 

Henry encouraged Pete to tell all he knew of the 
place, and was agreeably surprised to learn that 
Coyote Canyon was not more than sixty miles away, 
and that Pete could go to the spot on a bee-line. 


80 


SUE ELLA 


THE PREPARATION. 

When Henry carried this good nev/s to Ella, she 
was overjoyed, and for once was willing to give cre- 
dence to Peters story, and immediately began to 
plan for the little expedition. Henry consented to 
stay until the trip could be made to the canyon, and 
assist in making investigation for the satisfaction of 
Ella. 

It required some little time to make ready for the 
expedition, so the matter was explained to Aunt 
Mary and Uncle Tom, who were expected to get 
everything ready for the trip. It would necessitate 
the use of the old family coach, which was capable 
of carrying four persons, and all necessary baggage. 
Uncle Tom was ordered to have the old coach clean- 
ed up and well oiled; aho to see that the harness for 
his span of match horses was ready for the voyage. 

Aunt Mary needed very little instruction on her 
part of the preparation. All she wanted to know 
was the number to provide for. 

Pete must go to pilot them through; Uncle Tom^s 
services could not be dispensed with on account of 
the baggage, the coach and horses; Henry and Ella 
were to command the expedition and Aunt Mary 
must be the chaperone. 

Five in all. Aunt Mary was informed, then she 
hurried away to prepare a large box of provisions, 
assort the bedding and get all the little articles in 
proper places for herself and Ella to use during the 
trip. 


SUE ELLA 


81 


CHAPTER 12 

ELLA'S LAST APPEAL. 

While Tom and Aunt Mary were engasred in mak- 
ing preparation for the journey, Ella was given time 
to put another coil around Henry's heart. He had 
hoped that the excitement caused by the discovery 
of the locket would help him to run the gauntlet and 
make good his escape without sustaining the risk of 
another heart to heart talk on the loneliness and 
helplessness of Ella's situation. 

Henry was beginning to realize that his desire to 
be a soldier was on the wane. He was also con- 
scious of the frightful fact that he was loving Sue 
Van Deckman less and Ella Lockridge more every 
day he remained in the presence of the latter. 

Ella's thoughts were as pure and chaste as those 
of an angel, but at times she would leap the barriers 
of the most delicate female modesty and disclose to 
Henry the secret anguish of her soul. 

As the two lovers sat that night before the fire, 
blazing brightly in the old fashioned fire-place, Ella 
made the following appeal: 

“Dear Henry, when you came here, I welcomed 
your presence, and hoped that I might find you to be 
an angel of rescue. You came at a time to find the 
affairs of the Lockridge estate in a deplorable condi- 
tion. Your finding the locket has banished the last 
hope of ever again seeing my father. I feel quite 
sure he had dispatched the business in hand before 
he came to his death, but where are those important 


82 


SUE ELLA 


legal documents he carried away. Most of them are 
recorded in the courts of the country, but how can I 
look after these matters with no one to assist or ad- 
vise me? 

“There is no pleasure or profit in war, Henry. 
Millions of dollars are spent every year for no other 
purpose than to make widows and orphans. The 
peaceful persuits of life are more inviting and more 
honorable. War is only a relic of barbarism— the 
last to be tolerated and fostered by an otherwise ad- 
vanced civilization. 

I want you to forego your intention of becoming a 
soldier, Henry, and remain here until I can get the 
affairs of this estate well in hand. Promise me that 
you would rather be a lawyer as to be a soldier, and 
I will, as soon as possible, make you my attorney in 
fact. At least fifty thousand dollars worth of prop- 
erty needs to be looked after at once. The titles are 
all good, and if Capt. Lockridge succeeded in having 
the Texas property attested and recorded, then all 
are matters of record. 

‘ ‘As I have already informed you, I am the sole 
heir to this estate, constituted such by a will, execu- 
ted and recorded by Capt. Lockridge only a few 
weeks before he left home. If you will stay and 
assist me, Henry, I shall not attempt to estimate 
your services in dollars and cents, alone, but will 
confer upon you my everlasting gratitude.’^ 


SUE ELLA 


83 


HENRYKS FINAL DECISSION 

Ella^s pathetic appeal almost drove Henry to the 
point of distraction. Her request had been made 
with so much feeling, and substantiated by such 
lavish promises as to hardly admit of a denial. She 
held a claim on Henry that was hard to invalidate,— 
a claim that she did not intend to relinquish without 
making an effort to sustain • 

Henry began to realize that a man could be 
brought face to face with certain conditions in do- 
mestic, or social life, which require as much courage 
to meet as is needed to brave the conflicts of war. 
As the cow-boy would put it, he was up against a 
proposition . 

Henry was penniless. Here was a chance for him 
to marry a fortune. He loved Ella Lockridge as 
truly and earnestly as he loved Sue Van Deckman. 
Why not break off from his first love and bring 
about a happy and speedy consummation of his sec- 
ond love? In Henry's mind there was only one issue 
of vital importance — only one distinction in the mat- 
ter of decission worthy of consideration. He rever- 
ently believed that all true and congenial marriages 
were ordained in the providences of an All Wise Cre- 
ator. He had made a vow to Marry Sue Van Deck- 
man if she trusted him and was still single when he 
returned to Texas. He considered that vow as some- 
thing sacred, and the keeping of it more honorable 
than the possession of great riches. He held strong- 


SUE ELLA 


84 


ly to the doctrine that matrimonial engagements 
should never be broken except by mutual consent of 
the parties concerned. 

Henry did not want to answer for the sin of be- 
traying a sacred trust. In his mind it was, an al- 
most, unpardonable crime for a young man to keep a 
girl waiting and trusting for an indefinite time and 
then ultimately disappoint her by breaking his prom- 
ise and marrying another. Virtue in humble life is 
more to be desired than wealth obtained by deciet 
and broken pledges. This honorable and just con- 
sideration of the matter settled the question in Hen- 
ryks mind forever. 

There is quite a distinction between love and sym- 
pathy. The latter may be only a condition of the 
mind, while the former appeals to the finer qualities 
of the soul. It was no crime fcr Henry to be both 
in love and in sympathy with Ella. Her beauty and 
intelligence made her worthy of the former and the 
helplessness of her situation elicited the latter. 

Henry, in that spirit of kindness so characteristic 
of his nature, promised Ella that after their return 
from the canyon, he would remain for a few weeks 
and render all the assistance posible in the manage- 
ment of her estate. 


SUE ELLA 


85 


CHAPTER 13. 

EN ROUTE TO COYOTE CANYON. 

Pete declared that it was not less than sixty miles 
to Coyote Canyon. That distance was too great to 
be traveled in one day with a heavy loaded coach 
and only two horses- 

At 8 o'clock in the morning the old coach with its 
burden of camp equipage stood at the front gate, 
ready for its occupants. Uncle Tom was to contol 
the transportation, of course, and had the plan for 
seating the passengers complete, in his mind: Pete 
was to ride Bruce and lead the way; Henry and Ella 
were to occupy the back seat, while Aunt Mary was 
left to sit with him in the front seat. 

Tom thought this arrangement should be very 
agreeable to all, and was overjoyed at the thought 
of taking this long ride by the side of Miss Mary, as 
he always called her. But it takes the sagacity of 
woman to defeat the best generalship of man. Be- 
fore Tom's purpose had been disclosed. Aunt Mary, 
with that never failing intuition peculiar to the fair 
sex, preconceived his motive. She hurried Ella into 
the back seat and followed her so closely that no 
time was given Tom to dictate, discuss or in any 
way check or change the proceedings. 

Under ordinary conditions, Henry would have been 
well pleased with the opportunity of riding on the 
same seat with Ella, but his apprehension of the 
Indian cautioned him not to give too much latitude 


86 


SUE ELLA 


to Pete in the use of his horse, hence, he mounted 
Bruce and left Pete to ride at the front with Tom. 
Tom was sadly disappointed and acted a little churl- 
ish because of the change made in his plans; but 
wishing to show his skill as a driver, he drew the 
reins, cracked his whip and put the expedition in 
motion. 

Henry, dressed in Confederate uniform, with his 
revolvers bright and conspicuous, and mounted on 
the spirited Bruce, was not entirely free from a 
spirit of vanity, and was proud of the opportunity 
to play soldier in the presence of Ella. 

THE ROUTE AND ARRIVAL 

About forty miles of the route was along the old 
stage line extending from San Antonio to Santa Fe. 
The remainder of the journey was over a desolate 
and barren plain. 

About 4 o^clock in the afternoon of the second day 
they arrived at a spot that Henry recognized. It 
was the trail leading down into Coyote Canyon— 
the very same he had found when making his escape 
from the Indians. 

Here, at enterance of the thicket, the little com- 
pany halted to have a short consultation. It was 
impossible to carry the coach any further. The re- 
mainder of the journey had to be made on foot 
or horse-back down the rough and narrow trail 

The first suggestion offered was to leave Tom 
to take care of the team and vehicle, while the other 


SUE ELLA 


87 


members of the party proceeded on foot to the spring 
in the gulch where the search was to be made for 
the skeleton of Capt. Lockridge. At first Tom con- 
sented to this proposal, but as the time drew near 
for them to leave, he backed down. 

Then it was decided to pack the bedding and all 
the camping out-fit on the backs of the horses, and 
all go together, leaving the old coach to stand guard 
at the entrance of the thicket. 

“Give me old Betsy, said Tom, as he drew his 
old Endfield rifle from the back end of the coach. 
Fm a match for any derned Indian or varment that 
roams these diggins; but it would be sorter lonesome 
for me to stay here by myself 
Pete reached down to the floor of the coach and 
drew out a big hunting knife. “Me no fraid,“ he 
exclaimed, as he shoved the long blade down behind 
his belt “Me kill-e any body. Big Indian me kill-e 
a panter down thar one time.^^ 

Aunt Mary seized her big carpet sachel and para- 
sol, and hastily put on her long brown linen duster 
to protect her dress from the brush and cactus. 

Henry and Ella had already started and were some 
distance ahead when Annt Mary observed that she 
had beeq^ieft to battle with Tom, who was now 
edging up close by her side in the trail. She made 
an effort to get ahead of him, but failed. Then in a 
spirit of indignation she gave him a violent shove, 
landing him in a cluster of cacti. Before he could 
recover, she had trotted ahead— even beyond Henry 
and Ella, and was leading the van. 


SUE ELLA 


Finally the spring was reached and the remainder 
of the evening was spent in searching for the bones, 
or whatever else might be left, of Capt. Lockridge. 
But all in vain. No discovery was made. Ella, 
weary and discouraged, called oif further search till 
morning. 

It was now sunset. Pete kindled a camp-fire 
around which they all assembled for supper. Aunt 
Mary presided over the spread, and dished out just 
what she thought each one should have. She had 
managed to get on the opposite side from Uncle Tom 
and with a long sharp-pointed stick reached across 
and forced him to receive his share of the repast 
from the end of the stick. A sharp stick in the 
hands of a spunky woman means that her wishes 
must be complied with, hence, Tom raised no protest 
against the style of etiquette Aunt Mary had adopt- 
ed at this FETE CHAMPETRE. 

To arrange the sleeping apartments was the next 
task to be performed. Henry had erected a small, 
improvised tent to be occupied by Ella and Aunt 
Mary. Then taking his saddle and blanket, he 
spread a pallet at the root of the same tree where 
he slept on that eventful night when the ghosts 
were after him. 

Aunt Mary took for herself and Elia the two pil- 
lows and all the blankets except one. ‘‘Here'’ she 
said, tossing the remaining one to Tom; '‘You and 
Pete can occupy the same bed.’’ 

“Not much” retorted Tom. “I’m not going to 
sleep with that Indian.” 


SUE ELLA 


89 


“Unc! Me no sleep-e wid dat white man. Me sleep 
this way.^^ Then Pete ran to a litile cluster of cedar 
and pine, cut an armful, made a bunk of the brush 
and retired for the night. 

PETE THE LUCKY FINDER. . 

Next morning the search was renewed for only a 
short time. Nothing was found. Ella was convinced 
that nothing further could be done. Camp was 
broken up and preparation was made to return. The 
party was moving out, with Aunt Mary in the lead, 
and Tom following close behind her. 

“Hah! och; what m*e find?^' exclaimed Pete, 
holding something in his hand. “Hah he— look now.'' 

Henry and Ella reached him at the same moment, 
and Ella took the small package from his hand. 
Aunt Mary seeing that she was going to be over- 
taken by Tom, wheeled the van, and came running 
back. “What's the matter now?" she exclaimed, 
drawing near to Ella's side 

For a few moments there was a deathlike silence. 
No one ventured to speak — scarcely to breathe— 
while Ella unfolded a large leather-bound bill-book, 
containing a number of folded paper documents. 

“Heaven has blessed us!" exclaimed Ella. “This 
is my father's book and papers which he carried 
away. Here are all the deeds to his property that 
had to be attested and recorded. Yes, and on the 
backs of these instruments I see the clerk's certifi- 
cate of record. The property is safe; but where is 


90 


SUE ELLA 


iny poor father? Dead! yes, torn to pieces and de- 
voured by wild beasts/^ 

The shock was too much for Ella. She fainted, 
and would have fallen to the ground had not Henry 
caught her in his arms. This frightened Aunt Mary 
who was about to collapse at the sight of Ella's con- 
dition, but when she observed Tom's readiness to 
assist her in case of an emergency, she rallied with 
a right-a-bout-face, and quickly sprang beyond his 
reach. 

In the exercise of such precaution Aunt Mary is 
only a true type of the female race Perhaps many 
women, before and since her day, have been saved 
the humiliation of a fainting fit by proffered aid 
from the wrong man. 

THE RETURN TRIP. 

The old coach was found, standing like a lone sen- 
tinel on duty, at enterance of the trail where they 
left it. Tom hitched the team while the others were 
loading the baggage. 

Tom and Pete sullenly rode on the front seat. 
They had not spoken to eachother since the previous 
evening As they drove along Aunt Mary was 
taking a general survey of the country, while Ella 
was busily engaged looking over the documents so 
fortunately recovered. 

At noon they halted for a lunch. Aunt Mary was 
first to alight from the coach. The necessity of a 
cook-apron in preparing the meal caused her to 
reach under the coach seat for her big sachel. Lo, 


SUE ELLA 


91 


it was not there. In the haste and excitement of the 
morning, it had been left at the camp. No one ex- 
cept Aunt Mary knew what that sachel contained. 
In the line of clothing may be mentioned a brown 
linen duster, a pair of Oxfords and a sun bonnet. 
But these were not the most valuable. Aunt Mary 
said ail tne money she possessed— $40 in gold— two 
20 s, — was in that sachel. Ella also, had left her 
parasol. 

Forty dollars was some money during war times. 
With Aunt Mary, it was the “Widow's mite;'' all 
she had; this made the loss harder to sustain. Un- 
der the first impulse she was almost wild with ex- 
citement Then she recovered somewhat, and later 
pronounced an injunction against further proceed- 
ings until the sachel and its contents should be re- 
covered. She ordered Tom to turn the coach and 
drive back. This was her only solution of the mat- 
ter. To Ella, this seemed to be prolonging the trip 
unnecessarily, and to avoid so much delay, she sug- 
gested that Henry, who was mounted on a good 
horse, return alone, recover the articles left at the 
camp, and then overtake them before they reached 
home. Henry readily consented to Ella's proposal. 

Aunt Mary's features indicated a feeling of ap- 
prehension, but she offerd no word of protest against 
Ella's suggestion, for to have done so would have 
been barefaced presumption as to Henry's integ- 
rity. 

Bruce had been enjoying bountiful feed and a 
long rest. His metal was at its best, and Henry did 


92 


SUE ELLA 


not consider it any task to gallop back to the canyon 
and then overtake the party before they reached 
the Lockridge home. 

Henry mounted his horse with his characteristic 
cow-boy air, and tipped his cap as a salute to Ella, 
who slyly threw a kiss at him. Then he gave Brpce 
the bridle with a touch of the spur, and went soar- 
ing like a bird over the plain. 

“All aboard. Ya-haw! Get thar,^^ gruffly spoke 
the driver, and the old coach went rumbling on its 
way over the stones. 




Dangers Lurking on the Trail 



SUE ELLA 


DANGERS LURKING ON THE TRAIL 

©^er barren plains of rocks and sands, 

In the stormy days of long ago 
Came the weary laden car-a-vans 
To the desert lands of New Mexico. 

Like tiny boats on the restless main, 

Rolling wheels with snowy sail 
Came rumbling o^er the treeless plain, 

’Mid dangers lurking on the trail. 

Slow-moving, but resolute they came— 
Those brave and sturdy pioneers— 

To this wonder-land of Toltec fame— 

And the Pueblos of later years. 
Rock-rimmed hills and mountains steep 
Frowning above the sequestered vale, 
Like sentinels, their lone vigils keep. 

Where dangers lurk along the trail. 

The Red Man’s home and hunting ground. 
Made famous by the talk of gold 
And precious gems, that here abound. 
Brought many rovers, fierce and bold. 

The Tomahawk and scalping knife 
Oft made the white man’s courage quail 
While face to face, in mortal strife. 

With dangers lurking on the trail. 


SUE ELLA 


The frowning bluffs, the hill-side caves, 

Half hid by cedar, spruce and pine, 

Give sheltering lairs to savage braves 
And prowling beasts of every kind. 

Huge rattle-snakes in dens of rock 
Ring death notes from shielded tail 
While lusty coyotes howl and bark 
At those who tread the dangerous trail. 

In the gloam of night, the camp-fire bright— 
Where dames and maids now lie sleeping — 
Is a target bright to the Indian's sight, 

Who from his lair now comes creeping. 

No promise of safety for lonely tomorrow— 
Nor balm for wounds that may prevail 
By the Red Man's sharp and fatal arrow 
As he lies in wait on the desert trail. 

Let the dark curtain now drop and hide 
The tragical days of New Mexico, 

With tributes of praise for those who died 
Along the jor-na-do del mu-er-to. 

The pen lies idle, the story is ended; 

No more shall verse or rhyme avail 
To write of hopes and fears which blended 
With dangers lurking on the trail. 



SUE ELLA 


93 


CHAPTER 14 

SORROW IN THE LOCKRIDGE HOME. 

Days, weeks and months rolled by. The same old 
monotonous routine of domestic drudgery of former 
days had returned. Nothing to interest and no one 
to entertain. Nothing to break the spell of loneli- 
ness and solitude in the daily regime, except an oc- 
casional spat between Aunt Mary and Tom. Ella's 
sobs and heart throbs were only intonations born of 
the sorrow and grief within. 

The thought that she was sole heir to a handsome 
fortune brought no relief for the sorrow she felt — a 
double sorrow— driven deep into the soul by the loss 
of father and lover. 

Neither wealth unspent nor misspent can bring 
any true happiness to its owner. No one can live 
happily to himself alone. The human soul longs for 
association and congenial companionship. 

Ella, though her parentage was unknown, dis- 
played in her features, form and manners the un- 
mistakable evidence that her ancestors were of high 
class English blood. This class of citizenship was 
scarsely to be found in New Mexico at that time. It 
is no wonder then that she found in Henry Gordon 
that congeniality her soul had been longing for; nor 
was it unnatural for her to weep and lament when 
he was, perhaps, forever taken out of her presence. 

Aunt Mary was sorrowing too; but she was griev- 
ing more over the loss of her money, than she was 


94 


SUE ELLA 


over the mysterious absence of Henry. At times 
she would give vent to an indignant state of mind 
by the use of invectives in the presence of Ella, 
which, were not only abusive of Henry but repre- 
hensive of the girl who had sriven him shelter and 
nursed him back to health. 

“Now Ella,’ ^ she exclaimed, “you ought to profit 
by the experience you have had with that young fel- 
low you so readily took in and extravagantly enter- 
tained. He has as mysteriously disappeared as he 
suddenly came. I never did have any confidence in 
him, and now I know he is not a man to be trusted. 
You see, he got my money and hiked back to Texas. 
You thought he was a great somebody; but he was 
only a fair specimen of the Texas cow boy up here 
in New Mexico trying to play soldier.” 

Aunt Mary was even so bitter in her denunciation 
of Henry, that she requested that his over coat 
should be taken down from the rack in the hall 
where he hanged it before he left, and that it be 
taken out of her sight, as she did not wish to see 
anything that reminded her of him. This Ella re- 
fused to have done, and in reply to Aunt Mary’s 
request she said: “If Henry ever returns he will find 
all his things just as he left them. 

Poor Ella! she believed if Henry were not dead 
that he would some day redeem himself from the 
accusations so hastily and indignantly made by Aunt 
Mary; and if he were dead, that it should not be for- 
gotten he sacrificed his life to accommodate the very 


SUE ELLA 


95 


woman who was now heaping insult upon his name. 
Ella had a daughterly respect for the woman who 
had been a mother to her; and this reverence for 
Aunt Mary kept her from replying with a sharp re- 
joinder in defense of Henry. Truly, this conduct on 
the part of Aunt Mary made Ella's grief harder to 
bear. 


ELLA'S SOLILOQUY 

“0, what a wretched life is this! It is little better 
than no life. I almost wish that I had never been 
born. But since I am not responsible for my birth, 
and life was given me by a Higher Power, it becomes 
my duty to live and make the best possible of my 
existence. 

“But what can life be to me, a poor girl left alone 
in the world, lost from every vistage of my ancestry 
— one vvhose name and nativity ^vill, perhaps, never 
be known, unless the recollection of my childhood 
days should return. But have I anything upon 
which to base a hope that I may some day be able to 
recall even a part of my childhood life? I may have. 
Let's s ee. Here is the letter^ my father received 
from that noted Psychologist. What does he say? 
Let me read: 

THE letter:— “It has been substantiated by 
what we know of loss of memory through disease or 
accident that a recall is not only possible, but in 
many instances probable. It is possible that a blow 
on the head may cause a person to lose all memories 
of events preceding the accident. It is to be sup- 


96 


SUE ELLA 


posed that the neurones involved in these events 
have become disassociated from the rest of the ner- 
vous system rather than that they have been them- 
selves injured or destroyed, and that, consequently, 
they have been split off in their activities. That 
such is the case is indicated by the fact that these 
lost memories may be subsequently restored. The 
faculty of memory has not been destroyed; the trou- 
ble exists in a lack of power to recall. It is possible 
for this power to be restored by close association 
with names, places or events similar to like names 
or events that the dormant faculty of the mind still 
retains. 

“Yes I have cause to hope Such a statement 
from one who has made a specially of mental philos- 
ophy gives me great reason to hope. I verily believe 
that I would have the power to substantiate that 
part of mental science if I could be associated with 
the scenes of my childhood. I believe I would rec- 
ollect the name of my sister or my mother, if I could 
hear it repeated. 

THE ARRIVAL OF A NEW GUEST. 

One evening a stranger hailed from the front gate 
of the Lockridge home. Ella answered the call. 
“Good evening!^' exclaimed the stranger; I am a 
traveler and would be pleased to spend the night 
here/^ 

“It would afford me pleasure to grant your re- 
quest, replied Ella, “but as the gentleman of the 
house is absent, and we are alone tonight, I regret 
to say we cannot entertain you."' 


SUE ELLA 


97 


“I understand your situation^^ replied the strang- 
er, “but pardon me; will you please give me a drink 
of water, and let me fill my canteen?’' 

“You are very welcome to do so; light and come 
in." 

While these questions and answers were being 
passed between Ella and the stranger. Aunt Mary 
was looking out from the kitchen window- She saw 
the young man dismount and walk toward the front 
porch. Tom had just entered the kitchen with an 
armful of wood. “Look yonder, Tom," she said. 
“That silly girl is taking in another strange man- I 
don't know what is to become of her, any how. 
She'll keep on until she gets into trouble yet. It does 
seem that girls of her age are ready to fall in love 
with every fellov/ that comes along." 

“Well," replied Tom, “I see no particler harm in 
that They tell me that a woman's greatest object 
in life is to git married, 'specially when they have 
no protector; and to be plain. Miss Mary, I— I — have 
been— been— thinkin' — 

“Thinking nothing," stormed Aunt Mary. I don't 
want any of your ‘thinkin' around me. Get out, 
Tom, or I'll give your cocoanut cranium a free sham- 
poo with this pan of dish water." 

While the young man was walking from the gate 
to the front steps, Ella was slyly taking observation 
of him. He was of medium heighth, and neatly 
dressed. The removal of his hat brought to view a 
heavy suit of black, wavy hair, parted on the side 


98 


SUE ELLA 


and reached back, exposing a high, broad forehead, 
beneath which sparkled a pair of black eyes full of 
kindly expression. A square cut mouth wreathed 
with a jet black mustach completed the picture of 
the manly man he was. 

Ella was very forcibly impressed with the appear- 
ance of the young man, and was already debating in 
her mind the question of whether or not she was 
acting the part of a Christian by refusing to let him 
remain over night. There was plenty of room and 
feed for his horse, and there were several vacant 
rooms in the building, either of which he might oc- 
cupy with but very little inconvenience to the family. 

“I am very tired and my horse is considerably 
jaded' ^ began the young man as he walked up the 
steps. “When I came in sight of this magnificent 
old building and surveyed the surroundings which 
indicate so much comfort and convenience, I hoped 
that I had found a resting place for the night." 

“Be seated," Ella kindly invited," and I will re- 
consider my first answer to your request." 

“Thank you ever so much, my little lady," he said 
as Ella entered the hall. She walked to the back 
yard and calledj Uncle Tom, and asked if he would 
take care of the stranger's horse for one night Tom 
was in condition of mind to do almost anything he 
thought would aggravate “Miss Mary," so he gladly 
consented to do so. She then called at the kitchen 
door to consult Aunt Mary's wishes, but the busy 
little widow was in bad humor, and only murmured 


SUE ELLA 


99 


a few unintelligible sentences, the import of which 
was, that she was not going to assume any extra 
work for any one. 

Ella was determined not be outdone in the matter. 
She returned to the front and informed the young 
man that he could stay. “Come into the sitting 
room,^' she invited, “until I shall have prepared a 
room for you. ’ ' 

While leading the way through the hall, Ella 
paused, and pointing to a rack on the wall, said: 
“You may hang your coat there. 

At the usual time Aunt Mary rang the supper bell, 
and immediately elft the dining room, for she had 
resolved that since Ella had taken the responsibility 
on herself she could have the pleasure of acting the 
hostess But Ella was not to be embarrassed by the 
change of affairs, and with the grace and dignity of 
the little queen she was, presided at the evening re- 
past in a very becoming manner. 

Ella was becoming still more favorably impressed 
with the gentlemanly deportment of her guest, and 
after supper invited him to remain a while in the 
sitting room before retiring— ostensibly for the pur- 
pose of finding out all she could about him. 

Their conversation was directed along the line of 
current events, such as the Civil War, ranching and 
mining— matters of supreme importance at this time 
throughout all the South West. Ella ingeniously 
directed the conversation in a way to cause the young 
man to disclose more or less of his own career. His 


100 


SUE ELLA 


observation of Ella^s interested features convinced 
him of her suppressed desire to be inquisitive. In 
order to relieve her of any embarrassment she might 
feel in her apparent curiosity to know more of him, 
he proceeded to relate the following sketch: 

“My name is John Calhorn. I lived with my un- 
cle on a ranch in Texas, following the vocation of a 
cow-boy. Then I left the ranch and went to the 
gold fields of California. I am now on my way back 
to Texas. While in Santa Fe this week, I received 
a letter from my uncle, stating that my brother who 
had left the ranch to join the expedition against 
New Mexico had not been heard of till lately, when 
the report came that he had been captured by the 
Union troops, but soon after was released, and then 
while on his way back to Texas, was seized with 
smallpox and died at El Paso.'^ 

* * * * 

During the night Ella was, at intervals, seized with 
light spasms of delirium Fancied that she was only 
a child, living on a ranch; then reviving to con- 
sciousness, she bewailed the state of her helpless- 
ness. The young man's presence had produced in 
her soul a feeling that was very unnatural— a strange 
spell that could not be accounted for. 

TAKING A HASTY LEAVE 

Next morning while they were seated at the beak- 
fast table, Tom appeared at the door: “Say, Boss; 
some soldiers were here last night looking for you. 

I told 'em thar war'nt any man here. They didn't 


SUE ELLA 


101 


believe me and wor goin' to sarch the house, but I 
told 'em they'd scare the women folks; then they 
galloped away. Don't want to hurry you off, Mis- 
ter, but they'll be back again, and you'd better be 
pullin' down South. Them Kit Carson fellers is bad 
medicine." 

John Calhoun was in no way a coward, but he 
deemed prudence the better part of valor. It would 
not be an act of courage to wontingly place himself 
at the mercy of Kit Carson's Regulars, or risk the 
chance of backing them off; so he told Tom to have 
his horse saddled and ready immediately, at the 
front gate. 

John hastily dispatched 'his meal, and thanking 
his little hostess for the hospitality shown him, 
bade her good-bye. Hurriedly passing through the 
hall, he, by mistake, took down and carried away 
Henry's over-coat, leaving his own. 

After John was on the way, Ella walked to the 
front porch and gazed after him. ‘‘Going back to 
Texas; his home on the ranch;" she mused. ‘‘Why 
should I feel so much interest in this strange young 
man? Surely, I must be a silly girl." 

* * * # 

The day was one of ideal splendor and brightness. 
The morning sun was peeping over the lofty peaks 
of the Oscura range in the East, shedding a halo of 
glory over valley and plain. In the cottonwood 
grove near this picturesque old home the notes of 
the song-bird warbled with distinctive sweetness 


102 


SUE ELLA 


through the thin, cool atmosphere of the early mon- 
ning. On every side was enchantment for the eye, 
and melody for the ear; but Ella was sad To ner, 
the scene was melancholly. The song-bird^s music 
had no charm for her. The beauty and loveliness of 
nature she once so much enjoyed seemed veiled with 
a mantel of gloom that hung like a pall before her 
mistified vision. 

ELLA’S DISCOVERY— A DAY TOO LATE. 

On passing through the hall late that afternoon, 
Ella discovered that the strange young man had 
carried off John’s overcoat by mistake. It was rea- 
sonable to conclude that the young man would never 
return for the difference in value m the coats. In 
truth, he might not discover his mistake as the two 
coats were the same color, style and texture. Unless 
the pockets contained something valuable, it was 
not probable an exchange would ever be made. 

Some disposition had to be made of the coat. Ella 
carried it to her room. Curiosity, as well as the 
hope of making some discovery of secrets the young 
man had not se^'n fit to disclose, prompted her to 
search the pockets. Thrusting her hand into the 
inside pocket she drew out a letter, the first obser- 
vation of which convinced her that it was the very 
same the young man told her of receiving. Inas- 
much as he had already told her a part, or all of its 
contents there could be no harm in reading ihe letter. 

THE letter: “Dear John; — Having heard of 
your arrival at Santa Fe, have concluded to write 


SUE ELLA 


103 


you at that place. Perhaps you have not yet heard 
that your brother, Henry Gordon, left to join the 
Confederate army in New Mexico. Recently we 
learned that he had been taken prisoner by the Un- 
ion troops, but later was exchanged. On his way 
home, it is reported, he died of smallpox. I want 
you to return home immediately, and take charge of 
my ranch. Your Uncle Marcellus.'' 

One startling fact not mentioned by John, but 
stated in this letter, was, that Ella's late guest was 
the brother of Henry Gordon. This wonderful rev- 
elation, together with the assurance of Henryks 
death, reduced her to another state of nervous 
prostration. 

“0, cruel Fate!" she exclaimed. “If I had only 
known last night the story this letter tells me now, 
there would have been some consolation in the intel- 
ligence that has now come one day too late. If I 
had only known I was entertaining Henry Gordon's 
brother, we could have mutually shared each other's 
sorrows, and formed an acquaintance that would 
have lasted through life— one that might have been 
of inestimable value to me in days to come. 

“One day too late! One day too late! The only 
consolation left me is, that while entertaining a 
stranger, I was entertaining an angel unawares." 

“Poor Henry! It is all over now. The fitful dream 
is ended, and I awake to the realization that I am 
only a pauper, despite the fact that I have a fortune 
at my disposal. 


104 


SUE ELLA 


JOHN'S RETURN TO TEXAS. 

John made his return to Texas in the nick of time- 
A few weeks later, and his journey would have been 
very hazzardous. The Union troops, soon after his 
escape, occupied all the forts in New Mexico and one 
or two in Texas, near El Paso. The old stage road 
and other routes were strictly guarded by the Union 
soldiers. The stage coach with its mail service was 
cut off and there was no communication between 
Texas and New Mexico. 

General Sibley's brigade of Texas volunteers, was 
marching up the Rio Grande. Gen. Hamby, com- 
manding the larger portion of the Union troops, 
composed of regulars and volunteers, was stationed 
at old Fort Craig. This disposition of the two ar- 
mies was conclusive evidence that as soon as the 
Confederate army under Sibley arrived, the first bat- 
tle of any importance would be fought ' at, or in the 
vicinity of Fort Craig. All the country adjacent to 
this fort was vigilantly patroled by Union scouts. 

HENRY'S CAPTURE AND IMPRISONMENT. 

Henry was full of life, and thrilled with the pur- 
pose of his undertaking, when he left the little party 
on the plains and returned to Coyote Canyon. He 
found all the articles just as they had been left. 
Aunt Mary's big sachel with its contents and Ella's 
parasol had not been molested. 

With the sachel hanged to the horn of his saddle 
and the parasol before him, he started on his return. 




Give me your revolvers, my young soldier. 







SUE ELLA 


105 


CHAPTER 15 

As a matter of precaution, he took Aunt Mary's 
money from the sachel and put it in his pocket. 

On emerging for the last time, from the narrow 
trail and entering upon the plain, he carelessly kept 
too far to southward. After traveling a short dis- 
tance he discovered a newspaper, presumbly, blown 
by the wind and lodged against a bunch of cacti. 
This was something new to Henry. He had not 
seen a newspaper since he left Texas. Eager to 
hear something of the outside world, he dismounted 
and picked it up; he also picked up another scrap of 
paper, the contents of which he did not take time to 
peruse. Then re-mounting his horse and dropping 
the reins of the bridle over the horn of his saddle, 
he was soon completely absorbed in reading the 
news— war news, of course. 

Bruce, left to take his own course, was continu- 
ally bearing too far to the South. Influenced by the 
recollection of his little mistress and the Van Deck- 
man ranch, he was heading for Texas. 

Some time elapsed before Henry had done his pa- 
per; then arousing to a consciousness of his sur- 
roundings, realized that he was lost. He was going 
— he knew not where. The time had passed by with 
unseeming swiftness It was evening. The sun 
was almost hidden behind the mountains in the 
West. Darkness would soon envelop all nature, 
and he must spend another nightj alone on the des- 
ert- 


106 


SUE ELLA 


Suddenly he remembered the small scrap of paper, 
which he took from his pocket and read. He did not 
fully understand its import, but evidently it was a 
dispatch, accidentally dropped, or traitorously thrown 
away by a Confederate courier. He was in posses- 
sion, but did not know what disposition to make of 
it Automatically, he put it back in his pocket. It 
revealed to him one fact, viz: that he was in the 
vicinity of military operations. 

Inspired with the hope of meeting some portion of 
Sibley ^s Brigade, which he thought must not be far 
away, he urged Bruce to greater speed. On turning 
the spur of a small ridge covered with a scrubby 
growth, he* was suddenly commanded to halt and 
consider himself a prisoner of war. 

There was no chance to escape, neither by flight 
nor resistance. Henry was confronted by half a 
dozen Federal soldiers, with guns in position to fire 
upon him if necessary. There was only one thing 
for him to do, and that was to surrender, which he 
immediately did. 

“Give me your revolvers, my young soldier, 
gruffly demanded the corporal. 

“I am not a soldier, enterpolated Henry, as he 
handed the officer his pistols. 

“Not a soldier! Ah hah! It will require something 
more conclusive than a modest denial to refute the 
evidence gained from your appearance, my young 
man.'' 

“I am not a soldier, " continued Henry. “I have 


SUE ELLA 


107 


never belonged to any command, have never march- 
ed, mustered or performed military service of any 
kind. 

“Sir, you bear all the evidence of being a soldier,'' 
affirmed the officer. “You are mounted, armed and 
wear a Confederate uniform. Is not that sufficient 
evidence to justify your capture? 

“There are other evidences to the contrary," 
pleaded Henry as he drew the officer's attention to 
the sachel and parasol. 

“0, ho! I see," said the Corporal. “That evidence 
does not only confirm the first, but it introduces a 
new feature in the case. Young man, this feminine 
equipment indicates that you area spy." 

Henry, with trembling voice, began to offer an 
explination, which was cut short by the officer who 
now began to search the person of his prisoner." 

“Ah, hah! what is this?" exclaimed the Corporal 
as he drew a scrap of paper from Henry's pocket. 
Then he read aloud the dispatch. 

“No further investigation is necessary. Let's be 
riding boys" commanded the officer as he seized the 
hitch rein of Bruce's bridle, and led off in a gallop to 
the camp of a company of Federal troops. 

IN THE GUARD-HOUSE 

Henry's prison house was one room of an antiquated 
Spanish mission. It had stood the storms of two 
centuries or more. The larger portion of the once 
inposing structure had been reduced to ruins. One 


108 


SUE ELLA 


room only stood as a monument to the religious zeal 
of the Franciscan brotherhood of priests, who devo- 
ted themselves untiringly to the task of converting 
the Indians of all the Southwest. 

At some remote time there had been a loft in this 
part of the building, but the upper floor had been 
removed «nd the open space extended from the 
ground floor to the roof. After the removal of the 
upper floor, which reduced the building to one room 
with high walls, the window openings for the ac- 
commodation of the upper room had been plugged, 
or fllled with adobe in a very careless manner. But 
notwithstanding this careless piece of mosonry, the 
building served all the purposes of a guard-house, 
for no man could reach from^ the ground floor to the 
defective plugs which closed the openings above. 

Henryks horse and pistols were kept as spoils of 
war, according to the practice of military ethics. 
His personal effects were not molested— not even 
the sachel nor parasol, which he was alio ved to keep 
with him in prison. 

A FELLOW PRISONER 

When Henry was placed in prison, he found that 
he was not alone. Another man was incarcerated 
there. The guard called him Captain. He was 
a man who looked to be sixty years of age; he 
was tall, not corpulent, but rather muscular for a 
man of his years. His piercing gray eyes, aqualine 
nose and square cut mouth indicated a character of 


SUE ELLA 


109 


more than ordinary courage and remarkable firm- 
ness. Gold in manners, reserved in language, he 
expressed no feeling of pleasure or surprise at the 
arrival of the young man v^ho was to be his fellow 
prisoner. 

The acquaintance, however, was very short, and 
the two prisoners learned very little of eachother. 

HENRY RECEIVES DEATH SENTENCE. 

The commanding officer was absent when Henry 
was brought to camp and placed in prison. Two days 
later he returned and organized a courtmartial, be- 
fore which Henry was brought for a hasty trial. 
This small detachment of troops had already receiv- 
ed orders to march to Fort Craig where it was known 
a battle would soon be fought, and it was expected 
to occur at any time; for this reason the troops did 
net care to be incumbered with prisoners. 

“What is your name?’’ interrogated the presiding 
officer of the court- 

“My name is Henry Gordon, sir” 

“To what command of the Confederate army do 
you belong” 

“I do not belong to any command.” 

“What state are you from?” continued the officer. 

‘ T was born in the state of Missouri, came to Tex- 
as in boyhood, and at present am a sojourner in this 
territory.” 

Quite a number of questions were propounded by 


110 


SUE ELLA 


the officer of the court, all of which were promptly 
and truthfully answered by Henry. It was a case of 
weighing defendent^s testimony against circumstan- 
tial evidence- 

The presiding officer was very much impressed 
with Henry’s gentlemanly deportment as well as the 
willingness he displayed in answering every question 
asked him. He expressed an inclination to acquit 
the prisoner on the charge of being a spy, for the 
reason that the articles of female attire found in his 
possession were only circumstantial in point of evi- 
dence, and a doubt was in his mind as to the prison- 
er’s intention of using deception. He thought Hen- 
ry might be justly, or legally held as a prisoner of 
war. The fact that he was armed, dressed in Con- 
federate uniform and carried a dispatch was prima 
facie evidence of being a soldier, and doing service 
for the Confederate army. 

When the verdict was called for it stated that the 
prisoner was guilty, and should die the death of a 
spy. 

“Young man,” said the Judge, “I am loath to con- 
firm, and pronounce your sentence of death on the 
decission of this court, but as presiding officer, it 
becomes my painful duty to do so. I will grant you 
the customary length of time to prepare for death. 

“Officer of the guard, you will remand the prison- 
er.” 


SUE ELLA 


111 


ESCAPES FROM PRISON. 

While the officer was returning from the camp to 
the guard house with the prisoner, he leaned his 
head close to Henry’s ear and spoke in a low tone of 
voice: “Henry, have you forgotten me? I am your 
cousin. Bill Franklin. When I saw you last we were 
barefoot boys, attending Pine Grove school. I didn’t 
recognize you until you told your name to the court ” 

Henry immediately recognized Bill, and made an 
effort to embrace him, when the young officer vio- 
lently shoved him back, “Be careful, Henry. This 
relationship must not be known here,” he continued. 
Keep quiet; be on the QUI viVE. When I come to 
bring your supper tonight, I will have a glad mes- 
sage for you. Be wise. Keep mum. Not a word. 

When Henry was remanded and the prison door 
closed, the old Captain asked him the result of the 
trial. “They gave me a death sentence,” meekly 
replied Henry. The Captain expressed his feelings 
in a few words of condolence, but remarked that he 
was not surprised at the result. Henry avoided, as 
much as possible, further conversation with the old 
gentleman, for the reason that his new found cousin 
had commanded him. to keep mum. This indispo- 
sition to talk aroused no suspicion on the part of the 
old man, for he knew Henry’s condition was very 
grave. It was a time for meditation rather than con- 
versation. 

That night the young officer fed the prisoners him- 
self. As he handed in the tray of rations, he also 


112 


SUE ELLA 


slipped a paper folded tightly into Henry’s hand, 
then he quickly closed and bolted the prison door. 

“I'm quite sure, that under the weight of your 
trouble, young man, you will not sleep any tonight," 
remarked the old gentleman. “Since you would 
rather be left to yourself, and as I feel very sleepy, 
I will retire early and leave you to meditate and pray 
over your sad misfortune, as this will, doubtless, be 
the last night of your earthly existence. I feel much 
sorrow for you, but can render you no assistance." 

With these few words of condolence the Captain 
tumbled over on his bunk, and within fifteen min- 
utes was wrapped in unconscious slumber- 

The two prisoners had been allowed a small brass 
lamp which emitted a dim, flickering light. Henry 
sat down in the corner of the room and began to 
cautiously unfold the paper handed him by the 
guard. He then read as follows: 

THE note: 

“Be careful Henry. A slight mistake would mean 
death to both of us. Do as I tell you. Look! about 
twelve feet from the floor in the East wall of your 
room is to be seen a faulty piece of masonry, almost 
ready to fall out. By a slight jar from the outside 
tonight at 12 o’clock the plug will fall on the inside. 
Be careful! Be quick! as the plug falls a rope will be 
thrown through the opening thus made. Have on 
your female disguise, seize and climb the rope quick- 
ly, and ril pull you through. Then I’ll tell you how 
to dodge the sentinel. God bless you. Quick, Henry! 



i 


t 



The escape from prison. 








SUE ELLA 


113 


Burn this paper now, and proceed to follow its in- 
structions.'^ 


COMMOTION IN CAMP 

Early next morniug heavy canonading was heard 
in the direction of Fort Craig, some twenty or thirty 
miles away. This threw little camp into pandemo- 
nium. It was evident that the Texas army under 
Gens. Sibley and Green had appeared in the vicinity 
of the fort and the expected battle had begun. 

The guard who was sent to feed the prisoners that 
morning returned, stating that a plug had fallen out 
of the prison wall and the young Texan had escaped. 
This news, compared with the prevailing excite- 
ment, created but little interest, however, the officer 
in command ordered the sergeant to take two or 
three men, go on the search for the prisoner and re- 
port that night at Fort Craig. 

The little camp like a disturbed bee hive was all 
astir and in confusion. The officer in command knew 
his troops were needed in the conflict now going on. 
Camp was ordered broken, equippage packed and 
everything hastily put in readiness for a speedy 
march to Fort Craig. 

APPREHENDED AND SURROUNDED. 

It was nearing the evening of the same day, when 
three mounted soldiers came galloping up a dim trail 
from the East, leading in the direction of Socorro. 
Some distance ahead of them, yet in sight, the hero 
of this story, dressed in female attire, was plodding 


114 


SUE ELLA 


his way along the path. Still further in the distance 
ahead^ could be seen a number of small adobe build- 
ings. 

Henry's listening ear caught the sound of hoofs in 
his rear. One glance backward— 0, grim dispair! 
The earth seemed to sink under his feet— in truth he 
wished the ground would open and swallow him up- 
Turning his glance forward again, as if unconcerned, 
he observed a lone horseman dashing down the trail 
full speed towards him. His last hope vanished— 
“apprehended and surrounded! The dragoons have 
me— it is death after all!" groaned the despondent 
boy. 

The soldiers from behind were drawing very near. 
The lone horseman in front seemed frantic— wild- 
gesticulating as he came sweeping on to meet the 
other three. “Ho, boys!" he shouted, “haven't you 
heard the news? The battle is faught and ended, at 
Val Verde. The field is lost. Our troops are routed 
and in great disorder are rushing pell-mell into Fort 
Craig. No time must be lost; we'll take the lower 
route to the fort, before Tom Green's scouts pick us 
up." 

THE BATTLE OF VAL VERDE 

On the morning of the 18th of Feb. 1861, General 
Sibley, commanding the Texas troops, appeared in 
the vicinity of Fort Craig. This force consisted of 
Riley's and Green's regiments, five companies of 
Colonel Baylor's regiment; five companies of Steele's 
regiment; also Teel's and Riley's batteries, amount- 


SUE ELLA 


116 


ing in all to about 2,600 men. 

Cols, Can by and Roberts, in command of the Un- 
ion forces, were stationed at Fort Craig with about 
2,800 men— regular and volunteers. 

The three first days— 18th, 19th and 20th were 
spent by the two armies in maneuvering, with one 
or more light skirmishes, in favor of the Texans. 

The Rio Grande was the only source of water sup- 
ply, and the Texans having no access to the river, 
had been destitute of water for one or more days. 
Their mules and horses were almost famished, and 
being turned loose at night to graze, some of them 
wandered too far from camp in search of water and 
as a result 200 mules were captured by the guards at 
Fort Craig. There is another version of the story, 
however, which claims that a treacherous Confeder- 
ate negotiated and sold them to the Union forces. 

There was much effort put forth by Gen. Canby to 
keep the Texas forces from obtaining any water, 
with the hope of demoralizing and throwing them 
into confusion and thus force them to some extrem- 
ity that would result in their defeat. 

About 8 o^clock on the morning of the 21st, Col. 
Roberts left the fort with “a detachment and proceed- 
ed seven miles up the river on the west side, to keep 
the Texans from reaching water at the only accessi- 
ble point. At this point (known as Val Verde — 
green valley) the battle begun Roberts opened the 
fight with about 400 regular cavalry, together with 
McRae's battery planted at the ford, and supported 


116 


SUE ELLA 


by two companies of regulars and two companies of 
Kit Carson^s regiment. From this point a galling 
fire was opened on the Texans. 

At half past 11 o'clock the remainder of the in- 
fantry came up from the fort, were thrown across 
the river and formed in line of battle. The first as- 
sault made on this line was by the Texas mounted 
lancers. They made a gallant charge, but were re- 
pulsed with heavy loss. General Tom Green was in 
command, Gen. Sibley claiming to be sick, an at the 
time of the battle was perhaps several miles away. 

Elated by the first success, Col. Roberts ordered 
McRae’s and Hall’s batteries to cross to the East 
side of the river. From these batteries the fire was 
kept up until about three o’clock. At this hour Col. 
Canby appeared on the field to direct the engage- 
ment. He was about to oder a general advance, but 
before the order was given the right wing of the 
Confederate line made a demonstration, which drew 
off a part of the infantry supporting the Union bat- 
teries. Gen. Green took advantage of this success- 
ful maneuver and ordered a charge which was led 
by Col. Steele, whose position had been sheltered by 
the timber and some low sand reefs. 

All historians, in speaking of this encounter, ad- 
mit that it was a desperate charge. The Texans, 
maddened by thirst, and weary from the long march 
—armed principally with shot-guns and six-shootsrs, 
rushed on to victory. Volley after volley of grape 
and canister was poured into them, but no halt was 


SUE ELLA 


117 


made until they had captured McRae's battery and 
turned the guns on the panic stri cken enemy, who 
rushed helter-skelter into the river and did not stop 
until they were safe within the walls of Fort Craig. 

Inasmuch as this little book is not intended to 
serve the purpose of a history, no other event will be 
given in detail of the New mexico campaign, which 
lasted only three months. General Sibley left his 
wounded at Socorro, and rushed on with the Texas 
army to capture Albuquerque and Santa Fe. It may 
well be said that the invasion of New Mexico was 
unfortunate for the Texas army and the Southern 
Confederacy. This much must be said of the Texas 
troops: they gained every battle fought, but lost 
more men on account of smallpox and measles than 
were lost in the various engagements. The Union 
army was forced to burn its commissary lo prevent 
capture by Sibley's force. These provisions had been 
imported from the East by means of caravans over- 
land. Food products of the territory at this time 
were not sufficient to support the army. This condi- 
tion of affairs forced the Texas army to return. 

About the 15th of April, the Texas army, many of 
whom were sick and half starved, crossed to the 
west side of the Rio Grande, and begun that mem- 
orable, long and tiresome march back to Texas. Some 
time in the summer they arrived at San Antonio, 
disorganized and in destitute circumstances. 

In miniature, this event reminds one of the retreat 
of Napoleon from Moscow, except that it was over 
barren, burning sands instead of Russian snows. 


118 


SUE ELLA • 


VAL VERDE 

Val Verde, Val Verde! thy name shall ever live 
In story and song, as the years roll apace; 

Not a shimmer of thy luster shall the ages bedim. 

Nor a sentence of thy glory shall time efface. 

The pen of historians have long ignored thee. 

While the praises of others the poet has sung. 

Deeds of valor in rhyme, romance and history 
Are recorded for others; but for thee, not one. 

Let nobler pens the famous names extol — 

Of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville 

And write in living flames on the bloody scroll 
The heroic deeds at Shiloh and Gains’ Mill; 

But take not a star from the diadem 
The brave Texan troops at Val Verde won. 

Nor leave unsung a note of dirge, or anthem 
That in memory of our heroes may be sung. 

Sacred be the mounds that cover thy dead. 

Who with knightly courage marched to victory; 

Hallowed be the ground where thy heroes bled 
In defense of State Rights, home and Liberty. 

The bugle’s shrill notes shall never again 
Call the gallant dead from their last repose, 

Nor the command to “Charge!” by Gen. Tom Green 
Inspire them to combat with their Federal foes 

Silently they bivouac from the last tattoo. 

On the field of conflict— the Valley of Green — 

On the East sleep the Gray, on the West, the Blue, 
With the Grand Old River flowing between. 



SUE ELLA 


119 


Rebuke not the spirit of the Boys in Blue, 

Though they lost in the fight of that bloody day— 
Bridge every chasm, and old friendships renew; 

But honor the Texans who wore Southern Gray. 

The War ia now ended, the past is forgot. 

Save in the pages of history and song; 

Our government is one— sacred, blood bought — 

The grandest Republic under the sun. 

Disturb not their rest with the soldier’s tattoo, 

The bivouac guard well of the gallant slain; 

With valor for the Gray, and courage for the Blue, 
Let their cold forms in silence remain. 



120 


SUE ELLA 


AFFAIRS AT THE LOCKRIDGE HOME. 

.“ITl tell you now, Ella Lockridge, ^ ’ grumbled Auut 
Mary, “it is time for you to stop grieving and moping 
around when there is so much work to be done. 
House-cleaning time is here, the winter clothes are 
to be dusted and put away, the garden seeds are to 
planted and many other things to be done. I am not 
able to look after and do all this work by myself, so 
I want you to get into your working rig and help me 
more than you have been doing lately 

“Tom is as surly as a soreheaded bear and won^t 
do anything right, just for spite. I had to give him 
his walking papers— you know- and now he will 
hardly speak to me. If you don’t get a new coach- 
man, and fire this simlin head bodily, I am going to 
fire him out of my part of the business, and that’s 
no josh. 

“Say, Miss Mary,” exclaimed Tom, thrusting his 
head in at the half open door. “That infernal pet 
deer went into the kitchen and has turned over the 
churnful of sweet milk on the floor. Purty nasty 
gom, you’ll think, when you see what a mess he’s 
made in thar. Old Tige had his head fast in the fat 
gourd, too; but I managed t6 expercate that and sot 
the gourd back whar it stays. Guess he’ll not try a 
stunt like that again soon.” 

Ella had not even smiled for many days, but the 
recital of such domestic incongruities forced her into 
a hearty chuckle, in spite of herself. 


SUE ELLA 


121 


Ella grieved as one having no hope. She would 
rather believe Henry was dead than to believe he 
had violated his promise to return. The mental 
anxiety she suffered was very intense. Who am I, 
and where is Henry Gordon? were her thoughts by 
day and her dreams by night. With no Sunday nor 
society; no chums nor associates; remote from civili- 
zation; no letters, no newspapers to bring any ti- 
dings from other parts of the country; without even 
a guardian or protector, since the disappearance of 
her father, Ella Lockridge surely had occasion to be, 
not only melancholly, but wretched and disconsolate. 

HENRY A REFUGEE. 

Henry Gordon halted at the first house in a little 
Spanish colony, hid away in a mountain cove of the 
Rio Grande valley. This special building where he 
sought and found refuge was a jungled pile of adobe. 
No regard had been paid to any architectural design. 
A number of small rooms jutted together, covered 
with thatch, and provided by nature with dirt floors. 

The hostess was an elderly Spanish woman with 
several children, some of whom were nearly grown. 
Members of the family spoke the English language 
fairly well, and were not strangers to the ordinary 
civilities of domestic life. 

Henry, because of his female attire, was received 
with that degree of courtesy that would have been 
extended to any strange lady. It being near supper 
time he was invited to sit at table with the family, 
and inasmuch as he had not tasted food since his 


122 


SUE ELLA 


escape from prison, he partook of a hearty meal. 

Not knowing into whose hands he had fallen, Hen- 
ry ingeniously directed the conversation so as to 
learn something of the lady's politics. The inhabi- 
tants of New Mexico were at this time divided in 
sentiment. Some were in sympathy with the South 
and others with the North. When Henry learned 
that his hostess was in sympathy with the Confed- 
erate States, he threw off his disguise and told, in 
part, the secret of his visit He then begged for per- 
mission to remain a few days in concealment— at 
least, until the excitement caused by the battle of 
Val Verde had subsided. This request was generous- 
ly granted by the dame, who expressed a desire to 
render him all the assistance she possibly could. 

Henry did not care to humiliate himself by wear- 
ing female costume, and on the other hand he did 
not wish to take the risk of being recaptured while 
dressed in Confederate uniform. To relieve this 
anxiety of his mind, his hostess provided him with a 
citizens suit— one that had formerly belonged to her 
eldest son. Dressed in a buckskin hunting shirt, 
brown jeans trousers and a beaver skin cap, Henry 
made himself useful about the premises, and passed 
himself off, so far as practicable, as a member of the 
family. 

The only definite news Henry had heard from the 
late engagement at Val Verde was that told by the 
Federal courier to the three scouts as they passed 
him on the trail the evening of his escape. He knew 
nothing of the position of either army. For him to 


SUE ELLA 


123 


be recaptured by the Federals, would mean a speedy 
death, and that without trial; hence, it was very 
necessary for him to use the utmost precaution • 

SURPRISED BY THREE HORSEMEN. 

One day while Henry was sitting under a tree in 
the front yard, brooding over his misfortunes, he 
discovered three horsemen galloping down the trail 
toward the house. They had a led horse. Evidently, 
they were mounted soldiers. This discovery excited 
Henry’s apprehensions. He arose hastily and enter- 
ed the house. The horsemen dismounted and walked 
hurridly to the front door where they were met by 
the lady of the house. The spokesman for the trio 
demanded something to eat, with the threat that if 
refused, they would be compelled to confiscate a 
small amount of food, as they were almost starved. 
The old lady invited them to be seated in the front 
room while she prepared the meal. 

Henry had secreted himself in an adjoining 
room and when he heard the soldiers enter, hastily 
threw on his disguise. He was badly frightened un- 
til he learned their purpose was only to obtain some- 
thing to eat. Recovering from his fright, he con- 
cluded to walk out of his hiding place, but kept on 
his female attire, intending to pass himself off as 
one of the women about the place, or perhaps as a 
visiting lady. He had a curiosity to get a squint at 
the three strange men. 

As he passed in front of the door, and cast a shy 


124 


SUE ELLA 


look toward the strangers, he was completely knock- 
ed out of his wits — lost all presence of mind for a 
moment. Entirely forgetful of his feminine appear- 
ance, he rushed like a crazy woman into the room 
and seized one of the men by the arm; then uncon- 
sciously removing his sun bonnet, he sprung franti- 
cally at the second man, grasping him by the hand. 
By this time the confusion of voices and laughter 
was disturbing the entire family. The old lady had 
run from the kitchen to learn the cause of such dis- 
turbance, and other members of the family were 
thrusting their heads in at the doors. 

The cause was soon explained. Henry had rushed 
in to greet his three former comrades, who had left 
him appearantly dead on the plain. He was over- 
joyed at meeting them again, but was humiliated at 
the thought of being found in his present flight. 
This feeling was made the more intolerable by the 
unmerciful jests now thrown at him by his three 
companions — Anson Jones, John Riley and Harry 
Noble. 

“What in the name of Ceasar has happened to 
you, Henry Gordon, and what are you doing here?^^ 
asked John Riley. “Perhaps you have married a 
Spanish widow, and on the first morning she beat 
you to the trousers and left you the mother-hub- 
bard?’’ John did not intend to be rude, nor even 
ungenerous, but something must be said to relieve 
the embarrassment, besides this kind of talk would 
not be deemed unconventional with soldiers or cow- 
boys any way. 


SUE ELLA 


125 


By this time Henry had thrown off the old duster 
in their presence— even while John was speaking — 
and now his blushing features were fast turning into 
a palor of gravity, as he stood before his compan- 
ions dressed in a buckskin hunting shirt, short jeans 
pants, blue stockings and aunt Mary's lowcut shoes. 

“A man can't always be judged by his clothes," 
said Harry. “Say, Henry, you must have fallen 
into the wrong bunch, eh? Your hunting shirt 
would pass you for one of Kit Carson's scouts; but 
your pants, blue stockings and pumps would carry 
you back to Colonial days. Perhaps you have been 
playing John Smith and have been in need of a 
Pokahontas. If you will modernize your drama we 
will wait for the third act." 

Just at this moment the old lady announced din- 
ner ready. While the soldiers were enjoying a hear- 
ty meal, Henry took advantage of their absence to 
re-dress. When they returned to the room he ap- 
peared, dressed in his uniform. 

“Ha, ha, ha;" laughed Anson; “here is our hero 
of the plains, boys. You look quite natural now, 
Henry. Get your pistols and we'll take you on a 
scout where you can have more fun in one day than 
you can have here in a month playing granny. 

“Don't be severe," pleaded Henry. “I think you 
boys can afford to be more generous. I have never 
yet had an opportunity to enlist in the army; yet, I 
am not altogether a stranger to the hardships of 
military life." 


126 


SUE ELLA 


Henry then related briefly all that had happened 
to him since their separation. “Tell me something 
of your history since we parted on the trail, ^Meman- 
ded Henry. 

“Weir^ began John, “we side tracked in the sand- 
storm and the Indians passed by us. Then we 
turned back on the trail for some distance to a place 
where there was a high bluff and a ravine which 
headed near the road Here we dismounted and 
concealed our horses, then secreted ourselves in 
the ravine behind a ledge of stones and a cluster of 
cacti. We knew when the Indians missed our trail 
they would return to get your scalp. 

“Here we remained in ambush waiting their re- 
turn. Within less than one hour they came gallop- 
ing down the trail. We waited until they were 
within twenty yards of us, then opened fire on them 
with our revolvers. You should have been there to 
see us do some quick work. We got the whole posse. 
Not one of them escaped. 

“Leaving them dead on the roadside, we mounted 
our horses and hurried back to where we left you 
on the plain. You can hardly imi\gine our surprise 
when we failed to find you there, dead. There was 
nothing left to mark the spot — except old Ball. 
He was grazing about, with the pack still on his 
back, manifesting as little concern as if nothing un- 
usual had happened 

“We then made a little circuit in search of you, 
and finding no track, we concluded to return to the 


SUE ELLA 


127 


place of our last encampment, hoping to find you 
there. Here we learned next day that we were in 
advance of the Texas Brigade, and concluded to wait 
in camp until the army arrived, which was two days 
later. We have been in all the battles from Val 
Verde to Glorietta. The campaign is now over, and 
the army is on its return to Texas. There is very 
little discipline in the ranks, so we stole away to do 
a little foraging and will have to do some good rid- 
ing to overtake the command tonight. All this was 
interesting news to Henry. He had been cooped up 
and had heard nothing from the army. 

“I see you have a led horse, remarked Henry. 
“Pm sadly in need of a horse, and will give you all 
the money I have for that old plug. Pll need some- 
thing to ride when I leave this den.'* 

“We^l give you the horse, replied, Anson. He 
has been in our possession only a few hours. We 
have hardly had time to look at him, but he^s all 
horse. 

“How, and where did you get him?'' asked Henry. 

“We ran up with a federal scout this morning soon 
after leaving the command," replied Anson. “We 
ordered him to surrender, but he was a plucky 
scoundrel and showed fight. We had to shoot him 
off the saddle, after which he gave up his pistols and 
horse. “Let's walk out and look at him." 

As Henry came near, the horse began to whinney, 
then laid his head on Henry's shoulder and fondled 
him like a pet lamb. This unusual conduct by a 


128 


SUE ELLA 


strange animal aroused Henry’s suspicion, for his 
experience on the ranch had afforded him much op- 
portunity to study horse instinct. He was covered 
with dirt and sweat foam. His color was hardly per- 
ceptible. He was in bad condition— poor, jaded and 
looked to be half starved. Henry patted him on the 
neck, reached back his forelock, took a minute sur- 
vey of him and then glanced at the saddle. 

Then came the exclamation:— “Ha, ha! This is my 
own true and faithful Bruce! The noble horse I rode 
from Texas — The same that was taken from me by 
the Federals when I was put in prison. Boys, don't 
you know my horse and saddle? Bruce, Bruce! The 
best piece of horse flesh that ever hoofed the plains 
of the West.” 

“That reveals another act in the drama,” said 
Harry Noble, as he thrust his hand into a wallet tied 
behind his saddle, and drew out a brace of fine pis- 
tols. “Here are your revolvers, Henry. The spoils of 
war belong to the victors, but inasmuch as you are 
the rightful owner we cheerfully turn them back to 
you, with the hope that you may carry them in de- 
fense of your person, if not in the cause of our Lone 
Star State.” 







I 








• r • . 




V* 

I 




SUE ELLA 


129 


CHAPTFR 16 

When John reached home— The VanDeekman 
ranch— he found a conscript law being enforced. 
Every man and boy who was able to do service was 
being forced into the army. This new feature in 
military affairs thwarted the plan of his taking 
charge of his uncle’s ranch. To avoid being con- 
scripted, resolved on going to Galveston and there 
join Gen. Magruder’s command. 

During John’s few days stay at home he was mak- 
ing preparation for his journey. The family dis- 
cussed the probability of Henry’s death. They were 
quite sure the report was true. Sue Van Deckman 
entertained no hope of ever seeing him again; but 
her greif of Henry’s absence was very greatly modi- 
fied by John’s presence. 

John’s return, almost simultaneous with the re- 
port of Henry’s death, formed in the mind of Sue a 
strange, if not a painful co-incident, and with true 
womanly instinct, she speculated on what the future 
might bring. She was not shy of John’s attentions, 
which were not in the least aggressive, and to have 
treated him indifferently would have been an act of 
unpardonable foolishness on her part, for he had re- 
turned by request of her father and was again con- 
sidered a member of the family. 

Each day as it passed brought John and Sue into a 
closer relationship with each other. John was not 


130 


SUE ELLA 


quite sure of Sue^s betrothal to Henry, but his appre- 
hension was sufficient to make a formal proposal in- 
tensely embarrassing to him. Many well devised 
plans did he lay to catch the girl unawares, and 
thereby hear some word or sentence fall from her 
lips that would make the perplexing situation easier 
to guess at; but she, with equal ingenuity, evaded 
every snare set for her. 

A proposal of marriage on the part of John would 
not have come unexpectedly to Sue, for she was an- 
ticipating his intentions. The only thing she endeav- 
ored to keep concealed was her engagement to Hen- 
ry, and this was the one thing especially that con- 
cerned John the most. If no engagement had exist- 
ed— if there were no plighted vows existing between 
Sue and Henry— then he would feel at liberty to 
ask the girFs hand in marriage. On the other hand, 
if there was an existing engagement, then John had 
too much respect for Sue and Henry to offer a mar- 
riage proposal so soon after the death of his brother. 

The time for John to take his leave was drawing 
near. The vexations problem was yet unsolved. It 
would be impertinent to ask the girl if an engage- 
ment existed. He thought it would appear more 
honorable for him to make a formal proposal and 
then, if necessary, plead ignorance. If he only knew 
- but he didn^t. 

The time for John's departure came. The last act 
of preparation was to pack away his best wearing 
apparel that he might have a decent suit of clothes 


SUE ELLA 


131 


to wear when he returned from the war. He was 
going to Galveston where the climate was warm and 
pleasant, hence, an overcoat would be more trouble- 
som than profitable to him. Sue was folding the gar- 
ments while John placed them in the trunk. 

The over-coat was the last to be folded. John had 
never discovered any mistake of taking the wrong 
coat, therefore no apprehension existed. As Sue 
handed the coat, nicely folded to him, little did she 
dream that in its skirt between the lining and outer 
cloth was concealed that very same tin type card 
picture of herself and Henry Gordon. 

A SCRAP OF HISTORY 

Since the events recorded above some material 
changes have taken place in New Mexico and Texas. 
Tho Confederate army has left the territory and re- 
turned to Texas. All the forts in New Mexico are 
now occupied by Union forces, and all communica- 
tion with Texas by mail or otherwise is cut off. 

When the Texas army returned from New Mexico, 
it was re-organized at San Antonio and sent to the 
seat of war on the Eastern and Southern borders. 

Galveston has been re-captured from a Federal 
garrison, and their fleet in the Gulf there practically 
destroyed by Texas troops under Gen. Magruder. 
The attempted invasion by Gen. Banks on the East 
has been defeated, and now Texas, the only state 
in the Southern Confederacy ' that was not at the 
mercy of the Union army during the Civil war, is 
free from invasion. 


132 


SUE ELLA 


A QUEEN IN EXILE. 

Weeks and months rolled by with nothing to re- 
lieve the monotony at the old Lockridge home. Ella, 
the uncrowned queen of the West was pining her 
life away in literal exile — the owner of an immense 
fortune, and yet unable to purchase one moment of 
happiness or peace of mind 

How rich, and yet how poor! The possessor of 
millions finds no relief in his wealth vohen the ship 
breaks asunder on the ice, and he sees his grave, 
ready dug, in the bottomless deep. 

The situation of Ella Lockridge at this time is 
proof that wealth alone cannot produce happiness 
within itself. Where environment and association 
are uncongenial to human desires and higher aspira- 
tions, there can be no real happiness. 

There are two prime factors that go a long way in 
the formation of human character --parentage and 
environment. As to her true parentage, Ella knew 
nothing. She may have been born to a prince, or 
she may be the pittTul offspring of a pauper. Her 
parents may belong to the highest rank of wealth 
and social life known in the South, or she may be 
the illegitimate child of a rover and free-booter. 
Leaving this part of her unknown history, the only 
matter that concerns the reader is her present envi- 
ronment. While she was under the fostering care of 
her reputed father, she had all that he could provide 
to make her happy. Her education had not been neg- 


SUE ELLA 


133 


lected and every article of comfort and luxury that 
could be procured in this frontier land was hers to 
use and enjoy. 

Even now, as she looked out from her exile home, 
with a feeling of abondonment no less depressing 
than that felt by Napolean on the isle of Elbe, she 
could count half a score of rockrimmed peaks where 
she held a controlling interest in their precious ores. 

But all the wealth of the world cannot satisfy the 
longings of the soul when its chief desire is for con- 
genial companionship. When the passion of love is 
once kindled on the altar of the heart, it glows and 
sparkles as long as there is a ray of hope lingering 
in the mind, and when the inevitable comes— when 
vicissitudes and adverse fortune destroy the golden 
hope that kept the flame aglow, the smouldering em- 
bers, though hid by the charred remains of fond 
expectancy, with latent heat keep the life force in 
action while the victim waits for a brighter day. 

ELLA^S CRITICAL STATE OF DELIRIUM. 

The grief and mental anxiety suffered by Ella 
Lockridge soon proved to be more than her emotion- 
al nature and delicate constitution could bear. She 
was seized with fever and took her bed. It was not 
long until she became delirious. Her mind wandered. 
In her mental aberations she would call for her fath- 
er. At other times she would talk pathetically as if 
Henry were present. She would call his name and 
murmur a few sentences; then a sad, melancholly 


134 


SUE ELLA 


smile, that was hard to define, would pass over her 
features. 

Aunt Mary was her nurse by day and by night. 
There was no one to relieve her for one hour, and 
she, too, was suffering with exhaustion caused by 
constant watching. Every day the situation became 
more critical. It was evident that Aunt Mary^s pow- 
er of endurance could not last much longer. When 
her strength failed and she, also, must take her bed, 
what would become of them? The situation was a 
grave one. 

It was forty miles to the nearest resident physi- 
cian of any note. He was sent for and came two 
days later. He learned the cause of Ella’s condition 
and quizzed Aunt Mary critically in regard to her 
symptoms: “Is she delirious all the time, or does 
she have moments of consciousness occasionally?” 
he enquired. 

“She is sometimes conscious for a few moments at 
a time,” replied Aunt Mary. 

“Madam,” said the doctor, “there is nothing 
known to medical science that will cure, or even re- 
lieve her. The patient, in my opinion, is in a hope- 
less condition, not only mentally but physically also. 
The nature of her condition is a matter that belongs 
to psychology, rather than to the science of med- 
icine. There is only one remedy for her, and that is 
to remove, mitigate or greatly modify the mental 
strain that produced the trouble. A change of scenes 
and association, if she were conscious enough to 


SUE ELLA 


135 


observe and appreciate the change, might eventually 
restore the mind to its normal condition. Unless her 
mind can be changed into other channels of thought, 
and she be forced to partially forget the absence of 
her father and lover, she will not only continue to 
suffer, but her condition will grow more critical 
until she finds relief in death.'' 

“I will now take my leave. A second visit will 
not be necessary. The patient will not last many 
days unless some relief is given her mind. I'm not 
able to give that relief." 

Aunt Mary hoped the doctor would prescribe some 
attainable remedy. Now she was more despondent 
than before he came. Ella's moments of conscious- 
ness seemed to be growing less frequent and were of 
shorter duration. Time passed on and no relief 
came to the pitiful situation. The girl's condition 
was growing more serious, and Aunt Mary's ability 
to care for her was becoming more impotent. There 
is a time when one must come to the end of human 
endurance. Aunt Mary soon reached that condition 
of body and mind where human efforts fail to re- 
spond to the dictates of the will. She threw herself 
across her bed and in a moment's time was lost to 
Ella's condition— yes, lost to the world and all its 
sorrows! 

* * * * 

It was one of those dreary, cloudy afternoons that 
so seldom come in the sunny clime of New Mexico. 
One might imagine that Nature in a most condolent 


136 


SUE ELLA 


mood had thrown a pall of mourning over the Lock- 
ridge home, while sympathetic tears fell in occa- 
sional rain-drops, though large, yet not profuse. 

Inside the house a deathly silence prevailed. The 
gloom and stillness of the room would have been 
nervously painful to any one except the two victims 
who lay unconscious there. Ghost-like shadows 
at intervals played in pantomime across the floor as 
a rift in the cloud diffused more sunlight from with- 
out. From a crevice in the wall just under the bal- 
cony a narrow stream of light was peeping through, 
and falling obliquely across the bed diffused a gen- 
tle reflection on Ella^s pale face. Beside the bed 
another shadow came — hush! Is it ghost, or human? 
A manly form— a figure bending low, with eyes 
gazing intently on the pale, sweet face of the dying 
girl. Then a voice — “Ella! my own dear Ella!^^ 

“Henry, 0! my long lost Henry! Have you come 
at last! 


O! MY LONG LOST HENRY! 
HAVE YOU COMEAT LAST! 





SUE ELLA 


137 


CHAPTER 17 

Henry Gordon’s return to the Lockridge home was 
to comply with a moral obligation. He had made 
some promises to Ella Lockridge that were almost as 
sacred as those made to Sue Van Deckman in Texas. 

He could have gone with his three comrades who 
accidentally found him at the little Spanish settle- 
ment where they restored to him his horse and pis- 
tols. But a great change had come over the vocifer- 
ous hero of the Texas ranch. From a military stand- 
point he was not quite so ambitious. A chain of una- 
voidable circumstances had wound him into a very 
perplexing situation— one that required more gener- 
alship to properly adjust than is required to lead an 
army to success on the field of battle. In his great, 
loving, sympathetic heart there was a golden cord 
whose length was equal to the distance from the 
Lockridge home to the Van Deckman ranch. To one 
end of this cord was secured an obligation of love 
sealed with a vow; to the other end was held a 
strange, new found love, reinforced by a feeling of 
sympathy and a promise to assist. 

Henry, in the integrity of his heart, fully and 
firmly resolved to fulfill all his obligations to each of 
the two girls • He was determined to assist Ella in 
the administration of her estate, then return to Tex- 
as and marry Sue Van Deckman. 


138 


SUE ELLA 


Since the Texas army had withdrawn from the 
territory Henry had no protection as a Confederate 
soldier, nor as a sympathizer with the South. It was 
not only impossible for him to return to Texas, but 
impossible for him to send or receive letters from 
there. This was the reason Henry didn't write home 
and correct the false report of his death. Under 
these conditions there was only one thing for him to 
do, and that was for him to remain with his new- 
found friends at the Lockridge home till close of the 
war, or till the way to Texas should again be opened. 
To avoid detection, it was necessary for him to wear 
citizen's clothing and not make himself too conspic- 
uous. 

It is unnecessary to state that Ella's health and 
happiness were restored as a result of Henry's re- 
turn. 

Aunt Mary had changed her mind and was sorry 
for having made any unkind remarks about the 
young Texan, for on his return he had brought back 
her money and all the female toggery he had been 
sent to fetch from Coyote Canyon. 

Occasionally some passer-by would stop and leave 
a newspaper, published in the East, of course, for 
New Mexico had no newspaper plants within her 
borders until after the war closed. From this source 
Henry heard from operations of the war in the East 
every two or three months, and could easily foresee 
that the Southern Confederacy was rapidly drawing 
to a close. 


SUE ELLA 


139 


Henry and Ella spent a great portion of their time 
fumbling with the papers and documents of the 
Lockridge estate— some written in Spanish, some in 
English. There were deeds to a claim here and a 
claim there; some in New Mexico, some in Texas, 
and elsewhere. They wanted to get the affairs of 
the estate in tangible form, but neither of them 
could decide how or where to begin The whole bu- 
siness was a confused mass of incomprehensible 
stuff that could not be intelligently handled by one 
not conversant with the laws governing land claims 
in that day and time. To make matters more diffi- 
cult the whole territory was in a state of confusion, 
caused by the war and its demoralizing influence. 

Confronted by such insurmountable obstaclss, 
Ella suggested that the business of dealing with the 
affairs of the estate be left off until the war should 
close. 

ELLA'S STRANGE EXPERIENCES. 

‘ ‘Sit down here, Henry. I have something to re- 
late that may be of much interest to you. At first I 
attached no importance to what I am now going to 
tell you. I have been treating my late experiences 
as something merely delusory, thinking that per- 
haps my mind was not fully recovered from my long 
spell ofidelirium. 

‘ ‘The longer I keep this secret to myself the more 
intensely desirous am I to relate it to you; how- 
ever, before getting my consent to do so, I studied 
the phenomenon from a psycological standpoint, and 


140 


SUE ELLA 


learning that there is nothing relating to my expe- 
rience that is not fully sustained in the teachings of 
mental philosophy, I no longer consider it a delusion, 
but welcome it as a blessed reality. 

“In my sleeping hours I have what, for the lack 
of a better term, I shall call a dream. I dream of 
my child-hood and my experience as a captive, rov- 
ing and in camp life with the Indians. But if it be 
only a dream, then why should I be presented with 
the same objects on every occasion, leaving in my 
mind the same thrilling and pleasing sensation? 
When I arouse to consciousness the apparition van- 
ishes. My mind has not the power of retaining any- 
thing very definite, except the sensation, which is 
most delightful. 

Mental philosophy teaches the possibility of lost 
memory being restored, and there are many cases in 
evidence to prove this branch of mental science; but 
no person living can find language to describe ihe 
joy, the bliss, the heavenly ecstacy one feels while 
the spell is on. I verily believe that should the ob- 
livious incidents of my past life become manifest 
through the faculty of recollection very suddenly, 
that the shock would be greater than I could endure. 

“There is every indication, Henry, upon which to 
base a strong belief that my lost memory will soon 
be restored and I will be made happy by the recol- 
lection of my past forgotten life I truly believe 
that I would know my family name if I should hear 
it called; that I would recognize my parents and oth- 


SUE ELLA 


141 


er members of the family, with friends and associ- 
ates of my child-hood life should I be brought face 
to face with them. 

“Now I have told you the secret, and in conclu- 
sion, I have one request to make of you, that is will 
you let me accompany you on your return to Tex- 
as? Will you promise me, Henry 

“I promise you,'’ promptly replied Henry. 

ELLA BREAKS THE NEWS TO AUNT MARY. 

It was after sunset. The departing rays of light 
had painted a tinge of amber on the turquois sky in 
the West. 

The last turn of domestic drudgery for the day 
had been performed, and the little household flock 
was loitering in the back-yard of the Lockridge 
home. It was an evening chit-chat— a kind of nec- 
essary prelude to the proceedings of later hours — a 
custom that had been kept up and was participated 
in by Ella, Aunt Mary and any of the employees 
about the premises who had “a say coming.'’ These 
little after-supper meetings furnished time and oc- 
casion for talking over the most important happen- 
ings of the passing day, and the partial forming of 
of a program for the coming tomorrow. It was on 
this occasion, made special by reason of its signifi- 
cance that Ella decided to make known her intention 
of going with Henry to Texas. 

” I want you to listen. Aunt Mary,” began Ella, 
in a broken, half-subdued tone of voice. “I’m go- 


142 


SUE ELLA 


ing to break the news to you, and to prepare you for 
the shock that I feel sure is coming, will state that 
the disclosure I am now about to make is one of the 
most painful tasks I have yet attempted to per- 
form in '' 

“Yes; I know what youVe going to say;^^ inter- 
rupted Aunt Mary. “You are going to marry that 
strange, young Texan, whom you know nothing 
about. Just like a silly girl. I have been listening 
for just such news for some time. Shock! humph! 
It's a shock that Fve felt sure would come, soon- 
er or later, and 

“Wal, now, I don't see anything in that to give 
you sich a jar," drawled Tom. “I think that's good 
news and we ought'r have more of that kind of—" 

“Be qu^et, my dear, good woman," continued 
Ella. “You are wrong in your surmises. Henry 
Gordon has never made me any proposal of mar- 
riage, and it is not that of which I want to speak at 
this time. I want to say that you have been a 
mother— yes the only mother I have known since 
the day of my rescue by Captain Lockridge, The 
very high regard I entertain for you makes even the 
thought of the venture! have in my mind intensely 
painful to me, and " 

“Venture! Great heavens!" exclaimed Aunt Mary. 
“What on earth do you mean, Ella Lockridge? I 
would " 

“Don't get so excited and flamgasticated. Miss 
Mary. Why don't you let the gal tell it all? then 


SUE ELLA 


143 


you’ll have a chance to stan’ on yer head, if yer 
want to. We might arrange to have a double ” 

“Shut your mouth, Tom Dangerfield; what have 
you to do with this matter, any how? I declare “ 

“Be quiet, please;” pleaded Ella, “and ITl brief- 
ly tell you of the plan arranged between Henry and 
myself. To disabuse your mind of any selfishness 
on my part, I have made provisions for each of us, 
provided you will accede to the proposition. I have 
decided to visit Texas with Henry when he returns, 
and remain in that state until I shall have learned 
something of the life and customs of that people. I 
cannot bear to think of being left here helpless and 
defenseless. 

“Now, Aunt Mary, I want you to go with me. 
You know I have ample means to take care of both 
of us, and it will be a great visit for you. Will you 
go? 

“Will you go?” repeated Aunt Mary. “No; not 
if I can help myself, and I think I can. My dear 
husband was killed by the Texans during an inva- 
sion many years ago, and from that day to this, I 
have hated the name of Texas. I will surely not go 
to visit or live with a people who have made a 
widow of me. If you leave me, ITl seek another 
home. Fd rather die tomorrow in my native state 
than live in Texas for a century to come.” 

“Well, Tom do you wan't to go to Telas?” inquir- 
ed Ella. 

“Yes’m; you bet! Fm ready any minute. Just 


144 


SUE ELLA 


give me time to rub up the harness and grease the 
old coach. We'll sail any day you say. It's been a 
long time since I driv thru on the old Stage Line, 
but I know the route." 

“And how is it with you, Pete; do you want to go 
to Texas?" 

“Och! me no go. Me no lik-e Tejas. Kill-e Injuns 
that way. Me go hunt bear, and dig big heap of 
gold." 

JOHN CALHOUN RETURNS. 

John Calhoun at the battle of received a 

slight wound, but one that rendered him unfit for 
military service. For this reason he was given a dis- 
charge from the army and returned to Texas just 
before the close of the war. 

When he returned to the Van Deckman ranch the 
death of Henry had been confirmed in the minds of 
the family, by reason of his long absence and the 
fact that no information had been received further 
than the news circulated before John left. 

Every indication pointed to an early close of the 
war. The Confederate armies were fighting against 
fearful odds. The South was being overpowered, and 
in addition to this the resources for maintaining an 
army and carrying on a war were growing less every 
day. Confederate money — the only circulating me- 
dium — had depreciated until it was almost worth- 
less. Thousands of war widows and their families 
were suffering for the necessaries of life. The Con- 


SUE ELLA 


145 


federate army was growing smaller continually while 
the Northern forces were being re-inforced every 
day. It did not require the vision of a prophet to 
foresee that this condition of affairs must soon com- 
pel the Southern armies to surrender. Col. Van 
Deckman had already given up all hope for the 
Southern cause, and was turning his attention to the 
affairs of his estate. This made John's return very 
welcome to the Colonel. 

Sue had, in a large measure, recovered from the 
grief caused by the news of Henry's death and was 
now in a condition of soul and mind to treat John 
with more courtesy than she had felt disposed to 
manifest previous to his departure for the seat of 
war. 

The courtship, if such it may be called, was re- 
newed. John no longer sought to learn whether or 
not Sue had been engaged to his brother. A sufficient 
length of time had elapsed to justify a formal pro- 
posal of marriage, and this he soon unhesitatingly 
made to Sue, who, with no greater length of hesi- 
tancy than is conventional, accepted his proposal. 

A PROVIDENTIAL MATCH. 

John Calhoun and Sue Van Deckman were happily 
adapted to each other. It was a congenial match on 
scientific principles, as the scientist would say. Was 
it fate that brought about this happy consummation? 
Those who call it fate must be content to trust to 
fate for want of a Higher Power to trust in. Those 


146 


SUE ELLA 


who call it FATE must be willing to accept all that 
fate may offer, whether good, bad or indifferent. 

Some authors have said that all marriages are 
made in Heaven. It is better to say that all happy 
and CONGENIAL marriages are made in heaven. It is 
a hard task to make some people believe Providence 
has anything to do with match-making. It is not de- 
nied that there are many matches which are not 
made by Providence. Where the contracting parties 
would sooner trust to Fate than to trust to Provi- 
dence, it is reasonable to conclude that their mar- 
riage will be a haphazzard affair. The happy or un- 
happy result of match-making, depends upon the 
power trusted in for controlling the circumstances 
leading up to the consummation- People who prefer 
to live in a world of chance have no rightful claim on 
Providence. They must be satisfied with what chance 
sees fit to give. 

HENRYKS SURPRISE. 

'‘Where is my over-coat, Ella,'^ inquired Henry 
one crisp morning, not long after his return. 

“0, Henry! How forgetful I have been not to have 
yet told a bit of news that will be most interesting 
to you. During your long absence, I received and 
entertained a young man — a Texan — who is proven 
since to be your half brother. His name is John Cal- 
houn. He was on his return from California. On 
leaving next morning he took, by mistake I suppose, 
your over-coat and left his own. Here it is. In the 


SUE ELLA 


147 


pocket is a letter that explains the cause of his re- 
turn to Texas. It also states the news of your sup- 
posed death, received by an Uncle of yours. I was 
not apprised of his relationship to you until after his 
departure, when I discovered he had taken your coat 
and left his, with this letter. 

John's features grew pale as Ella continued to re- 
late the story, which revealed more to him than Ella 
had the least thought of. The coat his brother had 
carried away contained the photo of Sue Van Deck- 
man. 

Henry put on his brother's coat and left the house. 
For once he wished to be alone, that he might con- 
ceal the shock this information had caused. When 
alone he read the letter over again and again. The 
report that he was dead, and John's return to Tex- 
as, would perhaps settle the matter between himself 
and Sue Van Deckman, so far as love and marriage 
were concerned. He had sought a place of solitude 
to suffer the agony of expiring hope. And still more, 
he was mortified at the thought of his brother John 
coming out victor in the final contest. 


148 


SUE ELLA 


CHAPTER 18 

NEWS FROM TEXAS. 

The great Civil War had practically come to an 
end. The news of Gen- Lee^s surrender was expect- 
ed and listened for every day. The South had been 
overpowered and the Southern Confederacy had gone 
to pieces. 

* * * * 

It was just before the supper bell rang one even- 
ing that a stranger halted at the front gate of the 
Lockridge home. Henry and Ella were sitting on the 
front porch. They surveyed the man with no little 
concern, for Henry was still apprehensive of danger 
and made himself shy when strangers were in sight. 

The gentleman asked to be entertained, just for 
one night After a few moments discussion between 
Henry and Ella, he was permitted to stay. 

After supper Henry learned that his guest was a 
Texan and that he had in his possession a Texas 
Newspaper. This was a surprise and a treat to Hen- 
ry who had not seen a newspaper for several weeks. 
While Ella, in her pleasant and affable manner, was 
entertaining the stranger, Henry was busy scanning 
the columns of the paper. He read the war news 
first, of course, and learned that Gen. Grant had 
Lee's army surrounded near Richmond, Va., and 
that Lee's surrender was expected every day. 



HER ONLY ANSWER 







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SUE ELLA 


149 


Then his eyes fell upon the following news note: 

“Married — at the home of the bride's father, Col. 
Marcellus Van Deckman, his only daughter, Sue Van 
Deckman, to John Calhoun, March 5, 1865." 

This confirmation of Henry's suspicion did not 
come as a surprise or a shock. He now felt relieved 
from an obligation that he had never intended to 
break. Circumstances over which he had no control 
had changed the honest intentions of his life. He 
had promised to marry Sue Van Deckman if she re- 
mained single until the time of his return. 

Neither can Sue be accused of wilfully breaking 
her plighted faith with Henry. She was not respon- 
sible for the false news of Henry's death. Her sec- 
ond opportunity for getting married was too signifi- 
cant to be treated lightly. It would be no very hard 
task for her to cease loving Henry and learn to love 
John. 

When Henry had finished reading the paper he 
placed it on the table and retired for the night. 

ELLA'S SURPRISE 

The following morning Ella was busily engaged 
arranging the furniture and sweeping the room. 
She paused to pick up the paper— the same one that 
Henry had read with so much interest the night be- 
fore — and began to peruse its columns. Glancing 
hastily over the society notes, her attention was ar- 
rested by the marriage notice it contained. 

When her eyes caught sight of the name: “Sue 


150 


SUE ELLA 


Van Deckman/^ she was overcome by a sensation so 
wonderful, so glorious — a feeling that finds no ex- 
pression by the use of words. The veil that had sep- 
arated her past from her present life was drawn 
aside, and now she recognizes Sue Van Deckman as 
her own dear sister. Henry heard her exclamations 
of joy and rushed into the room. 

“What is the trouble with you, Ella Lockridge?^' 
he breathlessly inquired. 

“My name is not Ella Lockridge,'' answered the 
girl. “My name is Ella Van Deckman. I am a sister 
—the twin sister of the girl your brother has mar- 
ried. My home is in Texas • I remember it all quite 
well now 

“Is it possible that you are the girl who was car- 
ried away captive from the Van Deckman ranch ten 
years ago?’’ exclaimed Henry. “Then I am related 
to you in as much as I am the son of your father’s 
niece. You never saw me until I came to this place. 
John, my half brother, and I came to make our home 
with your father several years after you had been 
carried away by the Indians. The Van Deckman 
ranch, once your home, is also my home. 

“Now, Ella; I must disclose a secret which I have 
used every precaution to keep hid from you since I 
first saw you. The reason I have never made a pro- 
posal of marriage to you must be explained by the 
fact that I was engaged to another girl— that girl 
you say, is your sister Sue, who has recently been 
made Mrs. Sue Calhoun by my brother, and success- 


SUE ELLA 


151 


ful rival, John Calhoun. It is not necessary to state 
that I fell in love with you at first sight. You know 
that I love you dearly; and, may I venture still fur- 
ther with the presumption that my regards for you 
have, in some measure, been reciprocated? There 
has been but one barrier in the way, and that was my 
determination to be true to the girl you now remem- 
ber as your sisjter. 

‘'Dear Ella, if this evidence of my fidelity to your 
sister will serve as an apology for having first loved 
another, may I now hope to encumber you with my 
undivided affections, by offering you my hand, my 
heart, my all, and seal the offer with a marriage 
vow?^^ 

Ella's happiness was supreme. It was of the unut- 
terable kind. With a glow of heavenly light playing 
over her sweet, calm face, she extended her pretty, 
dimpled arms and confidingly fell into the strong 
embrace of her first, and only lover. 

THE CONCEALED PHOTO FOUND 

Not many weeks after Sue became Mrs. Calhoun 
she, like most young brides, resolved to gratify her 
curiosity by looking through her husband's personal 
belongings— his trunk, valise, and even the pockets 
of such apparrel as he had not lately worn The 
idle search, by which she hope to find something 
but, really, expected to find nothing, was nearly 
completed, when she observed the corner of, what 
looked to be, a postal card protruding from a slit 


152 


SUE ELLA 


in the skirt of John’s overcoat. She mischievously 
tore the slit larger and pulled the card from its long 
hiding place. 

“Can I believe my own eyes!” she exclaimed, as 
she glanced at the card. “However strange it ap- 
pears, never-the-less, it is true. This is Henry’s 
picture and mine — the very same card he carried 
with him when he started to join the army. Will 
John ever be able to explain how he came into pos- 
session of this card?” 

A few moments later John entered the room. 

“I am surprised and perplexed beyond all reason, 
John. Look at this picture; where did you get it?” 

“Where did I get it?” replied John. I never saw 
it before. Where did you get it?” 

“It was in this overcoat”’ replied Sue. “Is it 
possible that you have been with Henry in New 
Mexico, and exchanged coats with him? He carri- 
ed this card with him when he went away.” 

“I have not seen Henry since the day I left for 
California,” affirmed John. “If your story is true, 
it is a mystery that can perhps never be solved. ’ ’ 

Several days passed by, and every day Sue and 
John discussed, more or less, the mystery of the 
photo. There could be no mistake. The names of 
Sue and Henry were written across the back in 
Sue’s own handwriting, 

John, after being provokingly quizzed by Sue, in 
regard to the various places he stopped while on his 










Can I believe my own eyes! 













SUE ELLA 


153 


return from California, finally remembered one pos- 
sible chance of making a mistake by taking the 
wrong coat. Then they discussed the matter with 
some hope of learning the true fate of Henry. 
There was no other clue to the mystery John had 
gotten possession of Henryks coat, some time, some 
where. It was then agreed that they would get 
ready at once, take the old stage coach, and if pos- 
sible, find the place where John, by mistake, took 
the wrong coat. 

THE WEDDING DAY SET. 

Henry told Ella to name the day. As the nuptials 
were not intended to be very elaborate, there was no 
necessity of ‘setting the time very far in the future. 
The most difficult part of the preparation was to 
secure the services of some one to perform the mar- 
riage ceremony. There was no protestant minister, 
or county official vested with power to execute mar- 
riage license in the district. Aunt Mary being a 
Catholic, suggested that the marriage ceremony be 
performed by a priest. 

This plan was agreed to, and a party was 
sent to Albuqurque, more than fifty miles away to 
secure the services of a priest. 

Two days before the wedding-day, Ella and Hen- 
ry discussed between themselves the propriety of 
using Ella's real name in the marriage contract. 
Henry was willing to risk the name of her adoption 
— Ella Lockridge — but she contended that as her real 


154 


SUE ELLA 


name was Ella Van Deckman, she should be married 
under that name to make the contract legal. As the 
question grew more serious, the wedding hour was 
approaching nearer. Ella contended for her real 
name and Henry yielded. 

* * * * 

The priest arrived at noon and the marriage was 
to be at 8 o’clock the same evening. Aunt Mary had 
planned and provided a cozy little altar at the fur- 
ther end of the wide hall, using for decorations only 
such material as she could procure about the premi- 
ses. There had been a wedding in this building many 
years before it fell into possession of Capt. Lock- 
ridge; and ill an old oaken chest stored away in one 
of the upper rooms, was all the artificial paper flow- 
ers and festoons used on that occasion. Aunt Mary 
brought this mass of decorations from its long hiding 
place and used it very extravagantly, if not artistic- 
ally, in her hasty preparation of the altar. 

* * ^ 

Ella and Henry were dressed for the wedding, and 
were patiently waiting for the eventful hour to ar- 
rive. Ella had provided no special costume for the 
occasion; and Henry was dressed in Confederate 
uniform. The wedding guests had come— only a few 
tenants on the Lockridge estate who lived near by. 

Suddenly there was heard an unusually loud tap- 
ping at the front door of the hall. Ella and Henry 
together answered the call. As the huge door swung 
back the caller was observed standing on the porch 


SUE ELLA 


155 


just outside. He was a tall, muscular old man, of 
sedate countenance; and his clothing was dingy and 
thread-bare. Not a word was spoken. Several mo- 
ments elapsed; then Ella sprang forward and threw 
her arms around the stranger^s neck. The scene was 
almost painfully pathetic to Henry, who stood by 
with a feeling of wonder and astonishment witness- 
ing the prolonged embrace of Ella and the stranger. 

When the first paroxysm of joy had abated, Ella 
thoughtfully disengaged herself and turning to Hen- 
ry, exclaimed: “This is my long lost father whom 
I mourned as dead. He has come at last. You will 
shake hands with Henry Gordon, Capt. Lockridge.’’ 
As Henry extended his hand, the eyes of the two 
men met in happy recognition. 

“I do know!' ^ exclaimed Henry. “This is my old 
fellow prisoner, who pronounced upon me his bene- 
diction in the prison cell, the last hours we spent 
together there. It was my last night— in prison - 
but happily we meet again." 

Capt. Lockridge readily gave his consent to the 
marriage. He also advised Ella that she should ever 
be sole heir to his estate. 

CONSUMMATION IN PANDEMONIUM. 

The priest had just pronounced the ending word 
of the ceremony that made Henry and Ella husband 
and wife. Congratulations— if any— were in order. 
A momentary pause — then a rustle — a rush— Two 
strangers— a young man and a young woman came 


156 


SUE ELLA 


\ 


flying heedlessly down the hall. No halt is made, 
not a word is spoken. Consternation and surprise 
seize the minds of those present. Sue recognizes her 
long lost sister and rushes into the loving embrace 
of Ella. John and Henry fall into each other's arms 
with a hearty greeting. 

What can all this mean to those not informed. 
Pandemonium reigned. The priest in a fainting fit 
fell on a nearby couch. Captain Lockridge, who had 
faced many a bloody catastrophe, turned pale, and 
grew nervous while his knees fairly knocked togeth- 
er with wonder and fright. Uncle Tom, thinking 
the whole affair had been reduced to a kissing bee, 
made a spring for Aunt Mary, who in her most 
strenuous effort to defeat his purpose, knocked a 
lighted candle off the stand, which ignited the paper 
decorations of the altar and started a scarry con- 
flagration. Old Pete, who was just passing with a 
five-gallon bowl of fruit punch for the guests, in his 
endeavor to extinguish the flames with the fluid, 
missed his aim and empted the contents of the bowl 
into the bosom of Tom's Sunday shirt. 


THE END. 


157 


SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES. 

There are still many old Confederate soldiers div- 
ing who know by experience something of the hard- 
ships and privations of the New Mexico campaign. 
The true history of this part of the Civil War lives 
almost solely in the minds of those who made that 
history. Both Northern and Southern writers have 
almost ignored this important campaign of the Civil 
War. 

The survivors of Gen. Tom Greenes Texas Brigade 
still have their annual reunions; and at these meet- 
ings they talk over the incidents of this campaign. 
In their minds this unwritten history exists, and no 
where else. After all these noble heroes, “Have 
crossed over the river, it will perhaps be only a 
matter of tradition. 

The school children of Texas are not being taught 
in the public schools anything about this important 
event of the Civil War. Why? because it is not even 
referred to by the historian in the Texas school his- 
tory. They claim that this belongs to General His- 
tory. We claim that it belongs to Texas history be- 
cause of its close association with, and relation to 
the Lone Star State. It was a hot little campaign in 
which many brave Texas boys lost their lives. The 
fact that it was so remote from the seat of more im- 
portant operations of the war is no reason that it 
should be ignored. The events are worthy of a 
place in our state histories and should be recorded 
th ere. 

In the minds of some of the older people are cheer- 


158 


ished many sacred memories that cluster around the 
incidents of Val Verde. One county in Texas is 
named in honor of the battle fought and victory won 
by the Texas troops there 

Several brave Confederate officers lost their lives 
in this battle, among whom may be mentioned Lieut- 
Col. Sutton, Maj. Lockridge and Capt. Lang. 

After the victory of Val Verde the Texas troops 
rushed on and captured Alburquerque and Santa 
Fe. The battle of Giorietta was fought March 28th, 
and Peralto, Apr. 7th, 1862. 

TWO OLD CONFEDS. 

The writer has two old soldier friends living in 
this county, vis: W. E. Selman, of Oakwood, and 
Capt. T. D. Nettles, of Buflalo, Texas, who were in 
this campaign. Mr. Selman can relate some stir- 
ring events connected with this part of the war. 

Capt. Nettles fought the campaign through and 
won some distinction for his bravery at Giorietta. 
At close of the war Capt. Nettles was commander of 
the famous Val Verde battery. 

The following scrap of history is quoted from his 
Memoirs of this campaign: 

“When Texas seceded from The Union Sam Hous- 
ton, Gov. of the state refused to take the oath of 
allegiance to the Confederate States was deposed 
and Lieut. Gov. Ed. Clark installed. The Legislature 
passed a law raising two Regiments of mounted 
troops. The Command of the first Regiment was 
given to H. E. McCulloch; the second to Coin. Ford, 
(commonly called Old Rip). J. R. Baylor Lieut. 


159 


Coin., Ed. Waller, Maj. This Regiment proceeded 
to capture all the frontier posts occupied by U. S- 
troops, from Ft. Clark, Texas, to Tucson, Arizona, 
performing valuable service previous to the arrival 
of the regular Confederate Forces. The two Regi- 
ments mentioned above were state troops. 

Maj. H. H. Sibley of the second Dragoons U. S. A. 
resigned from U. S. Army and tendered his services 
to the Confederate States, He was promoted Bri- 
gadier Gen.,' with authority in July 1861, to raise 
three Regiments of volunteers from this state, with 
the important duty of driving the U. S. Troops from 
the Department of New Mexico. The first Regiment 
of this command (The fourth in order of Texas 
mounted Regiments). The Companies composing 
this Regiment were raised in (with the exception of 
two companies: Alexander's Company from Nac- 
ogdoches, and Nunn^s from Crockett, ( Central and 
South Texas, James Riley Colonel, Wm R. Scurry, 
Lieut. Coin., Henry Raquet, Maj., and, if I am not 
mistaken, John Riley, son of the Coin., Adjutant. 
This Regiment took up the line of march from San 
Antonio for El Paso, Texas, Oct. 22, 1861. 

The second Regiment of this Brigade: The com- 
panies comprising this Regiment, the fifth in order 
of Texas mounted Regiments, were raised, with two 
exceptions, in Central Texas. Pridgen's company 
was raised in Houston and Leon Counties; Jordan's 
company was raised in North Central Texas; Thom- 
as Green was appointed Coin., H. C. McNeil, Lieut. 
Coin; Samuel Lockridge, killed at Valverda, Maj; J. 


160 


D. Sayers, Adjutant. This Regiment took up the 
line of march from San Antonio Nov. 7, 1861. (I was 
a member of Capt, J. H. Shropshire's company A, 
from Colorado county.) 

The 3rd Regiment, the 7th Regiment in regular 
order of volunteers: The companies comprising the 
3rd Regiment of this Brigade were raised principally 
in East Texas. Adair killed at Glorietta, Captain. 
His company was raised principally in Leon and 
Houston counties; Hoffman's Co. B, a company of 
Germans, in Comal county. Wm. Steel was appoint- 
ed Coin; J. S. Sutton (killed at Val Verde) Lieut. 
Coin; A P. Bagby, Maj.; Thomas C- Howard, Adju- 
tant. This Regiment was not fully organized when 
the first two reached the field of operations, though 
six companies arrived in time, and participated in 
the campaign. 

Our total force, in this campaign, including the 
state troops under Capt. Charles Pyron, afterward 
Col. Pyron, may have been 2500. This command 
was composed entirely of Texas volunteers, com- 
manded by Brigadier General H. H. Sibley, a native 
of Louisiana." 


THE AUTHOR. 



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